Tourniquet
by J u s t . E s c a p e
Summary: -"Do you remember me? Am I too lost to be saved? My God, my Tourniquet, return to me salvation"...Lucifer had a reason for giving John new lungs, and it wasn't a token of gratitude. Hell wants him back - this time for good. John/Angela focused.
1. So It Begins

**Tourniquet**

**Rating: **T for swearing, drug use, thematic elements and brutal violence.

**Summary: **"Hello, Johnny Boy. I'm back." John Constantine wanted to think it was all over, that everything that had happened was behind him; but letting Ellie go was a foolish mistake. It's like John said, "Cancer makes ya sloppy." So after sending Angela away to rid the world of the once impending doom, John stumbles upon a familiar old friend - the one reason for who he is today. Then, granted by Lucifer himself, Balthazar will walk the Earth again and Ellie will be faced with a choice for revenge; and John Constantine will be forced to reunite with old allies from his past in an attempt to stop his enemies and protect Angela. But shall he succeed?

* * *

**So It Begins**

THEY had fled Ravenscar just in time before the ambulances and police cars arrived and now it was the second night since the events that had unfolded in that place. It was all over. Isabel Dodson, the twin with the sight, was in Heaven now and John had received a new set of lungs at Lucifer's own last resolution. It was after all his own greedy attempt to ensure that John wouldn't leave the Plane, so he'd be forced to stay here a little while longer until the Devil could figure another way to pull him down.

Gabriel the traitor was no more, or so it seemed. John wasn't quite sure if the once Archangel had committed suicide in the therapy pool or what; but to be blunt, he didn't care one way or another. The important thing was that Gabriel was gone and out of John's hair. As for Balthazar, there was no question whatsoever that he was burning in Hell where he belonged; and for that, John was grateful. The less pains in the ass he had, the better. In spite of all the good things however, there were always the bad; Chas Kramer, John's young apprentice, and Beeman the nervous little Bloke who could get his hands on anything were two of them. Father Hennessey, who often assisted John, was gone also.

After meeting him on the rooftop of the Bowling Alley to recieve her orders, Angela had left to the SUV that awaited her outside on the street. The funny thing was the hours that zoomed by with her sitting out there and in this time a bizarre thing occured: the night sky clouded in an instant it seemed and now it was beginning to drizzle. To add to that strangeness, she felt almost numb to it - sitting there and trying to decide what she was going to do - and then John came and slipped inside to think beside her as if he knew all along she hadn't left - and apparently he did.

The rains were hard now, so hard in fact until it sounded almost like the beating of tiny marbles against the hood and roof of the SUV. They had both been quiet, though frequently John could hear the unsettled sighs in Angela's voice. At length, she became restless in the silence that blanketed the boundaries of the car and she spoke,

"John,"

At first he didn't answer in words but reluctantly glanced her way from the passengers seat. The rains had come so suddenly and now he almost dreaded the parting from the vehicle. It was warm and dry inside and along with the beating of rain it was an almost comfort to their ears after all they had been through the night before.

"Yeah?" he asked her, nonchalantly.

"Well," she began, her hazel eyes studying the Spear that was crammed between her purse and seat. It resembled fear to her, stress and somewhat of a burden; but she knew she had to do it. "Aren't you getting out?" she went on, her eyes still fixated upon the Spear of Destiny.

"Yeah." he uttered, his quiet tone barely heard beneath the pounding of the rain. Then he looked at her and said, "You certainly want to get rid of me, don't you Detective?"

His last sentence caught her off guard and she eyed him with furrowed brows; but the small, playful grin spilling onto his face told her that Constantine was actually trying to joke for once, seeming to search for a light in the dark veil. She was yet to understand how this man had taught himself to deal with the paths he walked.

"I have an umbrella." she replied, the same smirk easing onto her own face. His smile disappeared and he shook his head in response.

"No. It's fine."

"Seriously, John. I have a spare in the backseat."

"Angela," he said, speaking over her in a more hardened voice, "that thing at your side is very dangerous. You need to handle it with caution."

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll take care of it."

"And..." he paused, reaching into his coat pocket for a nicoderm wrapper. Angela could sense his tension. "Take care of yourself."

"I will." A sigh escaped her, it was rough and shaken.

Suddenly, he leaned towards her and for a moment she was certain that he'd kiss her goodbye, but again it was merely the umbrella in the backseat that he was reaching for, not her. She gave him an awkward smile nonetheless and he nodded once in thanks, tilting the umbrella upward.

"I'll return it."

"Don't worry about it." she said.

John reached for the door, the handle clicking. Immediately Angela felt lonesome even though he was still in the vehicle with her. After leaving him on the rooftop after he had put the Spear in her hands, she stood by and waited a bit longer, knowing that he'd likely need a ride home, and he did.

"John," she sputtered. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for her to go on.

"What?"

"I uh…" Her hands were nervous and they gripped the steering wheel tighter than she liked. She could feel her wrists growing tense and sore.

"What?" he reiterated.

"…Nothing." she replied, sighing.

For a moment he wanted to ask her what it was she was really going to say; but Constantine was not a sensitive man. As hard as he often tried, he just wasn't that good around women like Angela; at least not when it came to showing compassion. However, it didn't mean that he didn't want to.

He knew she was still hurt over her sister, Isabel; he himself was still hurt over Chas and Beeman, his good friends; and even though he and Hennessey weren't that close they were still partners and John missed him. But Constantine had his reasons for avoiding serious relationships. As hard as it was - especially since he had secretly grown so fond of Angela - he knew it was best to avoid getting close because everyone he ever knew always ended up dead - maybe because of who he was and what he did.

He had a mission here on Earth, that part he knew well, and sadly he didn't see it fit to drag her into it any further than he had to. Assigning her to the mission of hiding the Spear was scary enough, but after that he wished to involve Angela in his affairs no longer. Though it didn't mean he wanted to entirely write her out of his life, he just didn't want her getting mixed up in his problems - even though it wasn't a guarantee. She had already seen what was out there again - with his help of course.

"…Just promise me you won't smoke anymore?" She looked at him like a hopeful little child and he couldn't deny her, as much as he wanted to.

"Alright." he said at length. "I promise."

"Good. Besides, you look better chewing gum." Her remark made it hard for him to resist a smirk.

After a casual goodbye, Constantine slipped out into the rain, keeping the umbrella over his head as he watched Angela Dodson drive away. In his heart, he hoped desperately for her to return with good tidings. Gladly, he would've went along just to ensure her safety; but John couldn't go with her, he had to stay. Only she could rid the world of the one thing that nearly ended it all.

As John trailed on through the Bowling Alley and up the flight of age-old stairs to his apartment, the place felt ghostly vast - even more so than it ever did before. It was colder now, and emptier. Maybe it had a lot to do with dear Beeman's absence, God rest him.

The keying of the door lock was the only noise that could be heard, save the clamping of his shoes against the old wood floors - he always kept the door locked even when he was coming right back. He retired inside, leaning the umbrella against the wall near the door and tossing his slightly damp coat onto the rack that sat empty in the far corner close to the line of shuttered windows.

John Constantine sat in quiet solace for a while, pouring himself a good drink of Vodka and expecting to drink it without question; but strangely his wretched heart denied him the drink, and before the rim of the glass met his lips he sat it back onto the table and quite sadly he pushed it away from himself in sighing defeat.

_How do you go back to your old ways_? He thought. _How do you pick up the pieces of your life, putting everything that happened behind you_? _I never had trouble doing that before, so why is it so damn hard now_?

The rains poured ever on outside and the thunder roared on through the clouds. It sounded like God was angry, or so it may to some ancient people that believed in such fables; but if anything, God was cleansing the world of the filth of Mammon and Lucifer…and maybe a few other bastards too.

†††

A week since his parting with Angela, John found himself patronizing one of his favorite places - one of which he had grown to be a large part of - and that was none other than Midnite's Club. This night, Midnite played Bartender, as he once had not so long ago. It was all for the sake of a moment to speak with a troubled friend.

"So tell me John," The African Witchdoctor began, mixing up some sort of harsh drink that a scorned hero needed, "how has life been treating you these past few days?"

John scowled at the question, easing up on the stool before answering. The bar was empty with only the two of them mingling there. Everyone else, what few were about, were all seated at tables or standing and whispering in corners - more than likely about the Exorcist John Constantine, the man who stopped Mammon.

"Like shit, mostly." he said, joking dryly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you look like shit." Midnite grinned, his teeth holding their grip on the Cuban cigar. "Here, drink this. It'll put hot blood back into your veins."

John caught the sliding glass, lifting it up before the gulp and gesturing to Midnite in his silent gratitude. This drink he couldn't turn down.

"And what of the girl?" Midnite questioned once more after John had forced himself to swallow the concoction.

"The girl?" he asked, his throat burning from the drink.

"Yes. The girl, John."

"Oh, right." John said, rubbing his temples. He had a bad headache that wouldn't leave him be.

"Has everything gone according?" the Witchdoctor whispered suddenly, leaning himself upon the counter top.

"Yeah. Everything's gone according." John replied, speaking the same volume.

"Good." And with that, they spoke no more of it.

John exited the club. The music was getting louder than he liked and Midnite was caught up in an argument between two petty Half-Breed skanks.

In the dark streets he stood alone in his solitary hour. The area was bare and quiet and no creature stirred, save some lonely dog wandering about and disappearing through the broken corners of an old fence.

John sheltered himself inside of his coat after slipping some fresh nicoderm into his mouth. He was aching for a cigarette but he promised Angela he wouldn't - he owed her that much at least, sending her on such a mission as he had done. His leather shoes clapped against the pavement, which was rather damp - it had rained nearly every day all this week. In the corner of his eyes he saw a sudden movement, followed by the tumbling of old trash cans. Apparently, something did stir.

"Shit!" he heard a hardened old voice express. Curious, John halted and listened further, trying to catch a better glimpse of the curser in the shadows. A tall silhouette of a male appeared finally, coming round and trying to gather the spilt contents of the trashcans. He cursed ever on, frustrated with the mess before him. In one hand he held a heavy trash bag, presumably full of old empty liquor bottles - judging by the clinging sound they made each time the bag swayed.

"That damn Witchdoctor. Ain't payin' me half as much as he bloody should." The man was aged, and his hair grey. His accent was that of a raw-toned British Bloke and something about him struck an interest in John Constantine.

As John closed in behind the now knelt down man, he took him in further - his voice at least - and when the man stood, he could sense John's stare upon him.

"So, how long ya been watchin' me, eh?"

"Long enough to recognize you." John's face was flushed and animated, but his words were almost spoke in some deep regret - maybe a little shock in there too.

The old Bloke turned himself around, and when his old eyes that were as grey as his hair, were upon John, his face turned even paler than it already was. He was tattered in ragged clothes, his body hidden beneath a heavy, stained trench coat of a gangly brown color. His shoes looked as if they had been borrowed from a trash heap and his pants were too dirty to tell if they were once slacks or pajama bottoms.

"Adam?" John asked him, hope flaming in his dark eyes.

"John," the old man gasped, "no, bloody hell! John, it's you! It's really you, lad!" The old man dropped the trash he held, and he stood shaken and befuddled as one who had spotted the Ghost of a lost friend.

"Adam Pool." John mused, looking onto this man in sudden disbelief. "What the hell's happened to you?"

The old man stuttered at this, not quite knowing how to respond. He was going to clutch John's shoulders in a welcoming embrace, but after hearing that question he resisted and upon him he looked blankly as one who was lost in some unknown wilderness.

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I own no rights to Constantine or Hellblazer and make no claim to any of its characters etc. They all belong to their rightful owners and not myself. I write these strictly for entertainment purpose. I just invented the plot and a few (though not many) original characters. The song "Tourniquet" (of which the title is inspired) and its lyrics belong to their creators and not me.


	2. Adam Pool

**Adam Pool**

The highways roared on somewhere in the distance and the streets clamored of horns and engines, stopping buses and rumbling semis. There weren't too many places to hide, and she had a nice home no doubt; yet somehow Ellie had preferred the streets of late.

She often dwelled in the corners of old withered brick buildings, scowling and hissing Constantine's name in the night. She dashed about from street to street like a rat scavenging for some morsel. She hated and spat at the mere thought of him and when the hour of Midnight struck, she would begin a long wailing like a clock wound to go off.

Her hair was damp, tangled and matted and her clothes were stained from lingering too long on the streets of Los Angeles. Her high heels had ached her feet and now they were laying somewhere in a trashcan just waiting for some homeless leech to find them. But Ellie didn't care - she hardly cared for anything, even her own survival - she only cared for her wretched thoughts of John Constantine.

"Damn you! Damn you!"

In the late hours her voice would often grow so loud and hardened until her cursing would wake up the project dwellers.

"Hey lady! Shut the fuck up! People's trying to sleep around here!" People would shout at her from the windows of the over-lived apartments, sneering at her as if she were a tramp. Ellie, weakened and stolen of her once feisty spirit, would piteously hiss at them and crawl to a quieter place.

"Oh John!" she cried out once, squeezed and cradled between a number of empty refrigerator boxes behind an old appliance store. "What have you done to me?!" she sobbed. "It's all your fault! You made me like this! You brought me to do it! If only you were there for me, I wouldn't have had to choose_ them_ over you like you chose her over me!"

Ellie was a sick, selfish little thing; caught and trapped like vermin by her own possessive thoughts. But she didn't see it that way. It was all John's fault. If he hadn't supposedly chose to help Angela Dodson, Ellie wouldn't have turned on him - what a load of crock that was.

He had ripped her from her sanity, turning the table on her and all of her pathetic Half-Breed groupies. She had gathered them there, all of them, waiting for Mammon to come like he was some kind of Messiah. But when John showed up, everything went sour and out of spite he let Ellie live as if she was unworthy of his bullets. Often she wished he had just shot her - but no, John was too cold to make things easy - and Ellie didn't have the backbone to end it herself.

Then, just when all the world was shrouded in darkness around her and for the first time she un-welcomed the dark, a new light daunted in her, stirring in her black heart a yearning, a curiosity. So, like a creature with no more reason for living, Ellie's bare feet carried her down the withered roads, past brownstones and rotted trees, by a Cemetery and a Church, till she stood in utter silence before a great sight - Ravenscar.

Why she was here was an almost numbness. She walked on, a gall still within her, and the bewildered people, what few mingled in the waiting room, watched with curious eyes as this withered, small-framed woman trailed to the front desk.

The woman, who sat behind the desk, was shocked at the sight of her. As the stout old thing removed her glasses, she looked on to this girl who looked broken and lost and in her hazel eyes there was an emptiness.

"Can I -" she paused, "Can I help you?"

"Yes." Ellie spoke at length, her voice slightly shaken. "I want to turn myself in…as insane."

†††

The trickling of the Vodka being poured into the glass was like a long missed melody to the old man's ear. When the glass was sat before him, he drank it joyously, and by the time he had finished, John had just diminished the contents of his own glass. Their thirsts were quenched and at length the old man spoke as his grey eyes traveled about the room.

"Nice place you got here. Doing well for yourself I see."

John sneered.

"It's a rat hole, but it's home I guess."

_Better than being on the streets_, Adam thought to himself.

"More?" John asked him and Adam nodded, quickly sliding his glass towards the generosity and retrieving it in the same haste.

"Got a cigarette on ya, lad?"

"I quit."

"What?"

"I quit." John repeated. At first, Adam looked onto him in disbelief, but when he said,

"John Constantine quit smoking? That's the biggest load of shit I've heard." he broke out into an annoying laughter, his voice shrill and rattling. "Tell me, John; what urged you to quit?"

"Got scared I guess."

"_You_ scared? Now I've heard everything."

"Yea, well; let's just say I nearly died…we'll leave it at that." John took a final sip from his glass and once empty, he sat it down again and looked on to the old man before him.

"Where've you been all these years, John? Tell an old man what hell your eyes have seen."

"You mean since our departure?"

"Begin where your heart desires." The old bloke leant himself back, crossing his legs beneath the table and using his palms as a pillow. There was just one problem; placing his palms behind his head meant that he would lift his arms, and it was not a delightful smell.

"You uh," John scrunched his nose, "want to rinse off?" he gestured towards the bathroom. "The sink still works anyway." He hadn't forgotten the inccident with Angela; submerging her literally into Hell - whilst losing a good tub.

"Oh, well," the old man rested his arms at his sides. "I ain't got anything clean to change in to."

John took a moment to render him, studying the new aspects of this old mule, and Adam was growing anxious in his seat, frequently rubbing the back of his neck then remembering the stench.

"What happened to you? How'd you get like this?"

There was the question and Adam's heart squeezed.

"Well," he sighed, trying to hide his cares behind the awkward smile beneath his mustache, "I suppose that sometimes things change for the better and other times for the worst."

"For the worst? For _you_ apparently."

"After our last escapade I sort of let my life slip out from under me. My brother was killed in a robbery, shot four times in the chest. After that I went into a rebellion with myself, breaking apart from everyone and everything I once knew and loved. I got slow in my exorcisms, the drinks were doing me more bad than good. I couldn't stop drinking. For a while, it was all I did…drink. I lost everything, John. I was no good for exorcisms being a sot, and Carol got tired of my ruthlessness towards her and the world. I was a sick bastard, throwing all my rage at her…she didn't deserve it." He paused, a long sigh escaping him as his wife's face reappeared. "I don't blame her for washing her hands of me."

"Carol. I remember her. Good looking for a woman her age."

"She was everything I had and I just let her slip away. Dammit."

"I can't believe you'd do that; let your life go down the drain."

"What life? What life, John? It was fucked up." Adam's fingers twitched, drumming the surface of the table while he ran his other hand through his hair. His eyes were baggy, full of sorrow and grief.

John pitied him and it made him sick; sick to know that such a man went to waste.

"Adam," John said, trying to gather him from the dark cloud that seemed to drift above his head, "I'm sorry. I am."

When Adam's eyes met John's, for a second he was sure that there was sympathy. Then something struck the old man like a match lighting a fire. He banged his fists against the table once and jolted upward, fighting the tears playing at his eyes. John saw him now in a new light just that quick. The old man seemed to lash at him like a poisonous snake.

"Listen here!" he shouted. John kept his cool, knowing Adam was only expressing the pain he kept hidden. "I don't want your damn sympathy! That's all I've gotten out of life…pity and handouts! Got a pitiful job working for Midnite, because like you he feels sorry for the poor old bum!" Now Adam was pointing his old crooked finger in John's face, "Damn you! I'm sick of the handouts, but you know what? I can't do a damn thing about it because this bloody world wasn't made for me!"

Adam rounded the table, throwing himself now and bearing his hands against the kitchen counter. His eyes were wavering at the sink and the kettle that rested on the stove top. Many emotions flashed through him like daggers against a dartboard, then he inhaled and the breath that escaped him seemed to release him from the anger, and when he looked back at John who remained quiet at the table, he suddenly looked weak and withered as he had on his arrival.

"Oh John," he gasped, his eyes spilling the tears of misery that he could hold in no longer, "John, forgive me. You took me in, gave me a drink and I lashed out like an ungrateful fool. I'm sorry," he sobbed, sitting again at the table and bearing his face into his hands, "I'm sorry." He was like a hyped up nut job, not knowing if he was coming or going, up and down like a roller coaster. One minute he was relaxed, the next he was angry. It was years of hard drinking that had done this to him, not to mention losing everything he had.

As he sat there crying to himself, John looked away, finding better joy in the sight of the floorboards. He couldn't stand to see Adam like this. He was once something big in his eyes, a hero maybe. Now he looked like a sympathetically pitiful beast, seeking crumbs and hiding from guilt.

Constantine wanted a cigarette badly, but instead his hand retrieved a fresh pack of nicoderm. Silently, Adam watched blandly as John slipped it into his mouth and chewed, his brown eyes still trained on the floor.

Adam could see the disappointment on John's face. Here before him was a man who was once a boy, a boy without the love of a father. He had found a sort of guardian in Adam some years long ago. For a long time he had been the closest thing John had ever felt of paternal love and guidance.

He knew how John's parents had done him - sticking him in mental wards and driving him to his own insanity. It took place a year before they met, but Adam knew about the suicide. He knew what drove John Constantine mad. Now the old man was looking at the situation before him - the dark haired man with a dreadful frown on his face. So Adam stood, making way for the door, no longer wishing to show his face here again.

"I should go." Adam clutched the doorknob, hoping to escape the bitter air in the room, but John halted him.

"Running away again." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Adam dared not to look at John, not yet; but he was coming up behind him and again he spoke, his next words bringing the old man's face back upon him. "You aren't the great Exorcist you used to be. I remember once when Half-Breeds cowered in your shadow... But that was long ago…"

"I'm sorry I've disappointed you." Adam coughed up.

"I always wondered where you were," John spoke over him, "what might've happened to Adam Pool, Exorcist Extraordinaire… Now I know."

"Thanks for the drink." Adam brought the door to an open crack, then John paused him once more.

"Wait." he said, standing from the table.

"What?" the old man asked.

"This doesn't have to be our last visit. I'm not much for company but…I thought you'd like to hear _my_ story sometime."

Adam hesitated for a moment, then at last he replied,

"I'd…I'd like that, John."

With that he left John; left him to dwell in memories long passed. It was sad, truly sad how life crept you by, sneaking past you without a hint, without a warning…

†††

At fifteen, John's parents pushed their youngest child and only son to the extremes - but more than anything it was the world around him he wanted to escape, even if killing himself was a one way trip to Hell. He didn't care. When he was a kid, he could see things. Things he didn't want to see. Things one shouldn't have to see. His parents were normal, doing what they thought was best - by making things worse. Once John thought he was crazy long enough, he searched for a way out - and he was certain he had found it.

The knife. It was the key, the escape. Officially he was dead for two minutes; but when he crossed over, time stopped. He was in Hell. For him, two minutes in Hell was a lifetime. When he came back, he knew. All the things he had seen were real. Heaven and Hell were right there, behind every wall, every window…The world behind the world, and he was smack in the middle. But the revelation of his own purpose was yet to be revealed to him.

When John's two minute trip to Hell was over, he came back anew. It was strange, his new state. No longer was he the timid and terrified little boy he was before.

His parents were petrified in frustration, his sister concerned, and John didn't care. He rebelled, this time it was serious. He started making friends, strange ones at that. He met a boy named Aaron Barns who had a band called _Mucus Membrane_. Aaron was two years older than John, a high school dropout and a boy who drabbled in things unheard of. He smoked like a siff, and it was he who inspired the habit in fifteen year old Constantine.

John took a liking to Aaron and found a new calling in music. He started out writing songs for Aaron's band and not long after, Aaron showed John how to string a guitar. After that, it was history.

They took gigs in old clubs, or any other shady place that would have them. Often in the crowds John would catch glimpses of Half-Breeds scowling and sneering; but he pretended not to see, until one day…

"John,"

"What?"

"Can I talk to ya for a second?" Aaron asked, casually; yet there was concern in his eyes. "John, we're friends right?"

"Well, yeah."

"I can trust yous and yous can trust me, right?" Aaron was a fast talker, a kid who cut the bull. He had a slain New York tone and he wore his hair slick and greasy.

"What's on your mind?" John asked as Aaron's eyes scanned the room, ensuring that they were in fact alone.

"John, tell me somethin' and tell me no lie. You see things."

"What?"

"John, come on man. Tell me the truth. I won't squeal. None of the boys will know."

"How would -"

"Because I see a lot of shit too."

"Like what?"

"This is gonna sound freakin' crazy…but I see people that have died, people I once knew."

John wanted to fake a laugh but for some reason he couldn't. Maybe it was because Aaron's serious glare made him feel too uneasy, not to mention the confession of him being aware of John's secret.

"I also have visions John. Visions about people I know…and you were in my vision."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"John, listen. I know it's fucked up, but before ya turn the lights out, I want ya to meet someone."

"Like who?"

"My Uncle. I think he may be able to help ya."

John was shocked, a little dry at the mouth. How on Earth Aaron had come to know this he was still uncertain. He had kept it to himself rather well, he thought; but later, Aaron told him that it came to him in a dream and he believed it for a reason - all of it. So a week later they drove to a place, an old stuffy building full of slums and welfare cases - not to mention a few drug pushers. On the fourth floor, the boys found themselves before a door numbered 128.

When the door was opened a tall, sandy blond haired man stood before them. He seemed pleased at the sight of his Nephew and within a days time, he took an interest in John. By the time two weeks rolled around that interest had become a liking.

Curiously, Adam, unlike Aaron, boasted a British accent. But in time, John learned that Aaron's mother was also British, though now deceased. Apparently she had died when he was very little and his father, who was from New York City, had been the obvious influence on his son's slain talk.

Adam Pool had been searching high and low for a willing apprentice, and John Constantine was just what he was looking for. But John was afraid, afraid of the truth that Adam told him. He revealed to John what he was and why, and the boy didn't welcome it.

"What other choice do you have? You can't run, John. You can't hide. It's always going to bloody be there, lad. Accept who and what you are. Put your gift to use."

"It's not a gift! It's a curse!"

"It's not a curse! Listen to me, lad." He gripped John's shoulders, shaking sense into him, "There is good and evil all around us. You're the wager between Heaven and Hell. You committed a mortal sin upon yourself and it's up to you to use your second chance to make things right between you and God. Use it, become what you were born to be. Use it in a selfless act to save others…There are few of us that walk the Earth that can see them. Don't fear it, muster and master it. They can't stand us because we can see the wolf in sheep's clothing. Let it be said that you and I will keep them at bay…assist me."

Only, John had not heeded to the term 'selfless'. All his life he exorcised victims, deported Half-Breeds and it was all for his own ticket into Heaven. In a way, Angela coming to him with the desperation she had was a savior for his own good.

Angela…he hoped that she was safe.

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

**A/N:** For those of you who are unfamiliar with Ellie, she is the Half-Breed who says "Holy Water?" in the Hospital scene where John deports the Half-Breeds. She is in the deleted scenes also of the uncut DVD. The band _Mucus Membrane _was mentioned in the Hellblazer comics.


	3. Angela And The Spear

**Angela And The Spear**

Air travel had been hectic, then the countless bus rides through South Africa. She felt worn and battered. She hoped that soon, she would be back home, sprawled on the couch with Duck in her lap - speaking of Duck, she wondered how he was fairing at the pet kennel. Relaxing at home with her cat was a nice fantasy, but by then her vacation time would be spent, and back to work she would be.

Angela sighed, blowing a loose strand of her auburn brown hair away from her eyes. Often she thought of John, wondering what he could be doing as of right now. She regretted somewhat, not telling him what she had longed to say; but in her heart she feared the reality of denial. Angela was not a selfish person. She had not a vain bone in her body and she mainly carried an open heart. Sure she had made mistakes, mistakes she couldn't take back - neglecting her sister had been one of them - but in general, Angela Dodson was one person that could be trusted. She wouldn't hate John if he said no.

Then her mind raced back to the Spear. Every time she remembered what she was set out to do, she felt queasy and cold inside. She hadn't made any plans to go to Africa, ending up here was something she had randomly chosen. All she could do was hope that it would not be in vain, that all her trial and error would pay off - she had to hide it; but where?

The little bus, crammed with South Africa Tourists came to a halt and the little British man up front collected their change. Stepping off, Angela found herself in a world foreign to her. She had never been one to travel abroad; her whole life had been spent in L.A., digging out criminals and solving crimes. Never would she suspect that a man like Constantine would be the one reason to send her so far and she wished enormously that he was here with her, showing her what to do and where to go; but she remembered _The Rules_.

"This place is much hotter than it looks on TV." she sighed, fanning herself with a magazine. She was casual, a useless camera about her neck and a cap on her head. It was intentional - to look as much like a Tourist as possible - and the heavy satchel at her side was kept close at all times. Never once did she plan to lay it down or abandon it in any way. She even slept with it cradled near her stomach. Whenever she stopped, she stayed not long and when she spoke to a stranger it was quickly done. Her eyes were always watching, always darting about here and there, scanning corners and shadows for anyone or anything that could be stalking her. So far, she had been lucky.

Angela carried on through the tiny town. Mainly old retired folks dwelled here, mingling at the cafes and gossiping in their boast. They paid no mind to her, and that was a good thing. Once she could get a bottle of water, she'd be on her merry way again.

Frequently, she studied maps, marking the trail and searching for that right place. She had considered throwing it in the water many times, but then she thought it too risky. She couldn't sail out to the middle of the ocean alone, that would be stupid; and on a Tourist Fleet someone could easily spot her throwing the Spear in; and if she tossed it too close to shore where the reefs were, some diver could find it - maybe a year or a hundred years from now. Either way, it didn't matter. She would've gladly tossed it in a Volcano, but that wasn't likely to happen either. She felt straddled with the thing.

"Catch!"

"Ah!"

Angela stood still beneath the shelter of the sidewalk, smiling gently as she watched a small group of children playing ball. Their accents were strong and they were African, no doubt. She couldn't help but reminiscent about the joyous times she and Isabel once shared.

Suddenly, a bus came buzzing in, honking for the children to get out of the street. They did, laughing away as they trampled onto the sidewalk. Angela dodged them abruptly and watched as they ran some feet down to the edge until they disappeared around a corner and she could see them no more.

Angela sighed, swallowed and made a brisk walk across the street into a cool, clean building. There were potted plants in the corners, beautiful pictures of the Kalahari and nice leather cushions on the seats near the large windows. A friendly African woman greeted Angela with a smile and she returned the expression.

"Can I help you, Miss?" the lady asked. She was young and well dressed and around her neck was a fine display of handmade beads.

"Yes, I'd like to rent a car."

"A vehicle? Right now we have a Land Rover."

"How much will that be?"

"How long do you need it?"

"I'd say about…four days at the most. I just want to cruise around in the dessert…Um, take some photos of wildlife."

"Okay," The woman began looking through a book, then her fingers began dancing on the keys of the computer. When she told Angela the rental fee, it was agreeable and Dodson paid quickly, taking the keys and saying goodbye to the smiling woman.

She found the Land Rover around back in a tiny parking lot just as the woman at the front desk had told her. Once inside, Angela cranked it up in haste, rolling the windows down and hoping for air. The car was terribly stuffy inside from being in the heat of the Sun, and Angela couldn't help but feel awkward with the drivers seat being just opposite where it was in America.

She pulled out, the men who tended the vehicles holding the larger gate open and shutting it once she was gone. She traveled down the rocky roads of dirt that were hugged narrowly between the endless wilderness. There had to be somewhere out here, a safe and desolate place where the Spear would be forgotten and where no mortal would ever find it. At least that's what Angela was counting on.

Suddenly, Angela realized that the world was far behind her, that she was alone in an uncharted wilderness, and an unpredictable one at that. Had it not been for the fascination she was growing for this place, she might have been afraid, but now in the horizon of the falling red Sun, she saw a small herd of Gazelle, and not so far from them was a gentle-paced family of Elephants - things she had only ever seen on television - and even then she had taken it for granted. Now this beauty was before her, and she was a part of it all. In a sense, it was magical and she smiled, wishing that her camera did have some film. But she didn't want to risk anyone finding out where she had gone, even John could never know of this because it was just better that way.

Perhaps these beautiful creatures and this harsh landscape would be a guardian in some way - something to guard the Spear as the Cherubim had been said to have protected the Garden of Eden.

**To Be Continued.**


	4. Balthazar

**Balthazar **

Balthazar burned, his body wretched in the inferno of Hell that surrounded him. He surrendered his sanity to none other than Lucifer himself and where Mammon was, well, who knew but his own father? Perhaps the evil influence was being held in solitary. He had nearly entered the Plane after all with Gabriel's assistance and now Lucifer was heavy in woe and rage.

"Once again, he triumphs!" Lucifer sat upon the cold stone thrown, clad still in white and his black feet moved not an inch. He rested his forehead against his gripping hand, and as he clawed his temples, blood spilled from his skin at the mercy of his nails. Balthazar, who writhed upon the floor, wailed ever on as the Devil spoke. "Once again," he went on, "Constantine cheats death! Oh why!? I had him! I had him!"

"But God now claims him, my Lord." Balthazar winced like a broken beast, his appearance gangly now and demonic. He did not take his alluring human-looking body with him because John had stolen him of that as well.

"God? God?!" Lucifer spat and he sneered at Balthazar, the wailing, crying brute laid before him. "And what right did God have to his damned soul? Tell me Balthazar, tell me again why I could not take him." It seemed that Lucifer found comfort and reassurance for his failure in the continuous explanations that poured frequently from the Half-Breed's lips. This already was the third time he had asked.

"Because," Balthazar hissed, "because Constantine at last learned of selfless acts and so he sacrificed himself to save another from your domain."

Lucifer scoffed at the term 'selfless'. Such words were not welcome in his house and he roared at Balthazar then, who cowered in his presence, and at that he was once again appeased.

"And now here_ you_ lay, wretched, tired, broken. You've dwindled down to nothing more than one of my scavengers." Lucifer chuckled, mocking Balthazar. "And for what?" he added, his lips curled and tipped in disgust as he sat perched still as stone whilst many of the hungry Scavenger Demons clawed and begged at their Lord's feet, some of which that laughed at Balthazar alongside him.

"For Mammon…" Balthazar replied in his guilt.

"IMBECILE!" Lucifer's voice rumbled throughout the endless valley of flame and once again Balthazar tried to crawl to his knees, hoping to seek some form of pity.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I knew not what I-"

"Silence you wretched beast! You futile existence! You scum of my world! What use are you to me?!"

"Much use, if given the chance." The Demon had been begging for a lifetime it seemed, trapped within the boundaries of this prison, hoping to recapture the trust that the Devil once had in him.

"Should I trust you, Balthazar?" Lucifer eased back into the comfort of his thrown, a wicked half-smirk upon him. "No Balthazar, I will not make the same mistake twice." His groping hand retrieved something from a plate, a bone covered in old meat and blood. The way he chewed filled Balthazar with resentment, reminding him of the starvation he suffered. So, the Half-Breed closed his eyes in an attempt to seal the open lid that exposed his true thoughts - but there was no keeping secrets from the Boss.

"What if I could return to the Plane?" Balthazar tried him once more and Lucifer was etching of rage.

"Silence!" he barked, throwing the bone aside and spitting out what meat remained on his forked tongue as he shouted. The Scavengers eyed the meat ravenously, wanting badly to attack and devour the measly morsel, but loyalty and fear forced within them a resistance. Once again, Balthazar winced in the Devil's shadow.

"Hear me, my Lord. Please."

"I have plenty of Half-Breed filth wandering around and keeping tabs for me. What use are _you_ now? You're ripped of everything you once were."

"Not if fully restored."

"Restored." the Devil snorted. "Give me one good reason to restore you."

"What if I could…" Balthazar winced ever on, still holding his grin beneath the pain. "…Could promise you Constantine's soul?"

Now Lucifer tilted his head slightly, not wanting it so noticed that Balthazar had his interest.

"And how would you do that?" he asked smugly.

"I know Constantine's weaknesses. I know all that he stands for, all that he loves and hates. I know where he goes, what he does…I know about the girl."

"The girl." Lucifer grinned, admiring the claws that his fingers now boasted. "Yes. The twin."

"Send me back my Lord and I will promise you Constantine's soul and the girl's as well if you wish it. If Johnny Boy is to be a tool for God, then let me be a tool for you."

"Now you promise me two things, but I don't think you can handle but one of them."

"Then I shall take care of John."

"For your own revenge or for mine?"

"Yours mostly." the writhed Demon assured him.

"Mine period. And what about his little girlfriend? If I can't imprison her sister, then why not add her to my collection? How will you hit two birds with one stone?"

"I know someone who can assist me. Someone that Constantine was too blinded by his weakness to deport…because he pitied her."

"Let me guess…Ellie."

Balthazar nodded.

"I doubt your abilities, Balthazar. Constantine has drained you."

"But through me your power shall rise again."

"My power?" The Devil grinned deviously, quite liking the idea all together, and Balthazar returned the same filthy expression.

"Yes, you will make me stronger," Balthazar coughed up a hack of black blood, his voice tainted in a demonic tone almost identical to that of the Scavengers, "and I will carry out what ever request you bestow upon me. Please Lord, let me win your trust. I will not make the same mistake twice. Constantine's soul belongs to you, and he should suffer gravely in Hell as your property."

How could Lucifer deny this? He longed for it, grieved for it, yearned for it. He wanted John's soul badly and he was willing to get a hold of it in what ever way.

"Alright. You've actually won me over. Surprise, surprise. But keep this in mind," Lucifer lost his grin and he leaned forward, eyeing Balthazar even colder than he already had, "if you screw up again, you'll be flushed out of existence. Completely. That means you won't be welcome back here either."

"I won't disappoint." Balthazar swallowed.

"I know you won't if you value yourself. Go seek Ellie in Ravenscar and take with you a small casualty of my Scavengers." Lucifer raised a palm, and he cast Balthazar out of Hell. The group of Scavengers that had lowered themselves about Lucifer's thrown took flight behind the excused Half-Breed and with him they too re-entered the Plane like a flock of stirred bats. Balthazar grinned evilly, his arms spread wide to embrace the power that was slowly replenished within him. About him, the wings of the Scavengers pounded against his ears along with their shrilling cries.

The Half-Breed made a horrific journey to the exit and once on the Plane again, he hit hard and his body trembled and jolted and he grew flesh and hair. Now he lay, naked in the dark, trapped atop a building. He pulled himself up at last, examining his shaken hands that had rekindled their human flesh. He grinned deviously at the sight. He was, in this moment, immediately secretive and calculating, climbing back to his feet and searching for some way off the roof. He remembered his scavenging allies then, seeing that they perched about him with their wings folded. Balthazar spoke to them,

"Go! Go and flood this city with your malice! Find those of which have a connection to Constantine in whatever way if possible!" The Scavengers fluttered into the night, wailing and screeching as they went.

Balthazar climbed secretly down the stairwell that was the escape from the rooftop, and he trailed carefully into an elevator where, to her own dismay, an old woman stood.

Balthazar heeded not to her, standing there unclad. The old woman trembled and swallowed often, her eyes trying to resist the humanistic curiosity that often led her to glance his way - not due to attraction or even mischief, but disbelief more than anything - it wasn't everyday that you were trapped in a moving elevator with a buck-naked male with God knows what on his mind, or rather, in this case, Lucifer knows what - because he did.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. From there, Balthazar disappeared and at last the old woman could faint in peace. She was appalled and shocked…maybe sickened.

It was in the streets that he wandered, thinking it the best that he stay hidden and out of the crowded and lively parts of Los Angeles, but Balthazar was yet to be surprised. A bundle of flashing lights reflected upon the dark that shrouded where he stood nude and once turned around, he saw a cop car purring behind him. He shielded his eyes from the headlights that exposed his being and in that moment, voices spoke to him over a loudspeaker.

"Put your hands up!"

"Stay right where you are!"

The car paused and Balthazar waited for the two male cops to trample to his side.

"I suppose one little game can't hurt." he mused to himself.

"Sir, are you aware that public nudity is a violation to the Law?"

"Hmm…Let me think…I was certain that a filthy city like Los Angeles would excuse it." Balthazar pretended to be mindful in a sarcastic sense, then he shot them a wicked look, one that sent a shrilling chill to each man's heart. Then he laughed, "I really couldn't care less!"

"Stay right where we can see you, we're taking you in." The two men stepped carefully towards the victim, attempting to cuff him.

"On second thought, I don't care for my time to be wasted any longer." Balthazar clutched their wrists, and before either of them could move they froze; and as Balthazar stepped away, the cops pulled their guns from the boundaries of their holsters and to their heads they were aimed. The shots were loud, quick and Balthazar stole the uniform from the taller, slim fellow. Then, fleeing the scene, he made way into the downtown streets.

"I'm not much for uniforms," he thought, missing the sophistication of his pinstriped suit, "but this will have to serve."

The streets crowded of people, casual shoppers, city slickers and everything in between. Strangely enough, though spawned in pits of flame, Balthazar felt at home and he grinned at the sight of it all, laughing quietly to himself. Somehow, he presumed that he already knew the outcome of it all. This time, John wouldn't get the better of him, because this time Balthazar would strike him like a cobra hidden in the bush. This was one attempt that Constantine would never see coming.

†††

Ellie mostly slept, drank water and ate the food brought to her by the Nurses, though mostly she picked at it like a sickly hen.

The Doctors knew not what to make of her. She went by Molly Greystone, but of her actual name, they were uncertain. The reason for this uncertainty was due to the untraceable files they had been unsuccessful in digging up on her. The most logical conclusion they could make, considering that she refused to tell them anything, was that she was some pitiful tramp that had given up on life, seeking some peace here within the walls of a Medical Facility.

Ravenscar was more than a Mental Institution. The Doctors here pertained to the treating of ailments, diseases and so much more. They had to, because so many lunatics were sick.

During the day, Ellie found bitter pleasure in amusing herself with _Jerry Springer_, the only show she felt that she could possibly find to relate herself to. Every man that she saw she sneered at because there was usually at least one thing about them that brought John Constantine back to mind. And yet, in spite of herself, the tall, dark haired fellows, what few she saw, made her want to cry because they reminded her of the good aspects she had found in Constantine - his looks.

There had been those few times when 'Molly Greystone' had grown so hysterical and overwhelmed with it all until the Doctor would rush in while the frightened Nurses pinned her down and give her a shot - something to tame the beast within. Of course Ellie, being what she was, always put up one hell of a fight, clawing, kicking and even biting at some points.

The old Indian Woman - one of the Nurses who tended her - was always wary in Ellie's presence. She never looked the Half-Breed in the eye and Ellie resented her reform. It was as if the old woman knew that there was more to this female than a mere mental case, and that much was true. One day, Ellie caught her chanting some ancient prayer to herself before leaving the room. It was there that the Half-Breed grew suspicious of her.

"Bitch." the Demoness uttered. She hated all Humans.

That night, by the hour of one a.m., Ellie was perched up in bed, grieving away and cursing every backstabber she had ever known - naming John of course.

The Hospital was silent mostly, with little activity now since many had retired home, save that one old Indian woman who wandered the halls of Ellie's room nervously. Then, the old woman froze in her steps, seeing some cruel thing before her. She fell and crawled but before her wails could escape her, blood shot from her chest and she lay dead with her heart draping out of her. The force was invisible, because nothing was there, at least as far as the typical eye was concerned. But something lurked, and it wasn't Ellie.

"Damn you, Constantine! If you were here right now, I'd…I'd.." Ellie had not heard the commotion outside. She had been, as always, too caught up in her own self-pity.

"Haven't you wined enough?" The voice was evasive and she startled slightly in her bed, her eyes finally seeing that in the corner of the room near the window a silhouette sat cross-legged in a chair.

Ellie thought for a moment, scrunching her brows and forgetting her tears. Then it came to her and she frowned at the mention of his name,

"Balthazar?" She sounded unpleased.

"Good guess." He stood, prowling about the room and coming closer to her side so that she could see a good deal of his face in what little light came through from the crack of the bathroom door - his cold eyes and sandy brown hair.

"What the hell do _you_ want? I though you were dead. And…and how did you get in here without me knowing?"

"I have my ways. Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Balthazar snatched a chair that rested against the wall, making himself comfortable in the company of Ellie. "I'm here on an assignment."

"You?" she laughed suddenly at this. "And why would the Boss let _you_ back onto the Plane?"

"Hmmm…" Balthazar gritted his teeth, snapping the stiffness from his neck. "Perhaps because I know how to, let's just say, smooth talk the Boss. I'm here to reclaim Constantine's soul back to Hell…and I know that you'll be more than willing to help. Unless of course you'd rather rot in your bitterness."

**To Be Continued.**


	5. He Called Her Liz

**He Called Her Liz**

There were always those few in the world who held special gifts. Few they were indeed and rare to come by, yet there were labs that observed and studied them, institutions that handled them - and then there were Half-Breeds that were drawn to them.

John Constantine needed some comfort. His previous conversation with Adam had left him dry and writhed with mental pains. Something was unsettled within him and there was only one person he thought for sure could decipher what it was. Strangely, this someone was one of the few people he thought knew him at least as good as he knew himself; which was unusual for a loner like John.

Halting briefly on the sidewalk where a few stragglers brushed by him, he ranked the old brick flat. It was much the same it was a few weeks ago - old, beaten, some broken windows and missing railing around the doors where the iron stairwells hugged the age-old walls. He was pleased at the sight of it and slowly he carried on into the place, trailing through that same old fence he had so many times before. Inside he was greeted by a silent corridor, accented in stained tiles that were broken in some places and stained dirtily in the grout.

The staircase ahead echoed of footsteps that weren't his own and John pressed his back against the wall as a stout Hispanic man pushed past him. After watching the fellow vanish from the place, he ventured up the stairs. The effect of the places' essence inside however was scarcely what he expected, for the sunlight, coming in by the great window on the old staircase, picked out everything in vivid gold or red illumination. At last, his feet brought him before a door.

Before knocking, he straightened his coat, fixed his tie and anxiously pushed his hair back; but before his fist met the wooden door, it was opened as if his timing was expected. An old Indian woman sheltered beneath a vibrant patterned shawl stood there and her wrinkled old face was pale and troubled. She glanced John briefly before briskly walking out and he took a moment to watch her, curious about the woman's state. At length, he stepped in himself, and for a moment he just stood by the door to take the place in - it seemed that he had always taken its appeal for granted in his previous visits.

Everything was in it's place. The house might have been deserted for all he knew - often it was - but today its walls reflected the warmth of human life. There were candles in the sockets of the sconces, though unlit they were, and whatever dust had gathered on the carpets or the old wood floorboards was distributed so evenly as to be invisible in the sunlight that pierced now through the glass windows that lined the far wall beyond the parlor set. He was about to advance from the entrance, but he stopped abruptly noticing a human form standing upon the landing hidden from him by the corner of the wall that lapped out by the door. The form, a woman by rightful judgment, moved towards him eagerly without giving him the slightest hint of desired waylay.

"John," she smiled, her voice was laced with a gentle tone and a merriness was in her, "hey."

"Liz."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, still keeping her smile.

"You mean you didn't know? Normally you see me coming."

"Maybe I've grown a bit stiff." she shrugged.

"You? That's not likely…when you're sixty maybe."

"Thanks for the raw humor John, but why are you really here?"

"Needed someone to talk to."

"Anything wrong?"

"Nothing severe. Just needed someone to…hear me out."

"To confide in." she stated it. John scoffed slightly. "It's okay, John. Everyone needs a set of ears sometimes."

"Well I figured you owed it to me since I had to listen to you complain about your fight with your sister." he told her, smugly.

"Ah," Liz folded her arms over her chest, eyeing John mindfully, "so you _were_ listening."

"To what?"

"John, just shut up and sit down." Liz chuckled, shaking her head as she wandered towards the kitchen. "I'll fix you something to drink."

Self-satisfied with his 'raw humor' as Liz often called it, he took her advice and found comfort upon the plush Victorian parlor sofa that sat before the window. Liz mused at how nice he looked sitting there with the light beaming against his head. Too few guests she received in this flat, save the old believers seeking solace and comfort in her readings that barely paid the rent.

Elizabeth, or as John knew her; Liz, was an average height woman with a slim build. Her high heels often made her taller than what she really was and because John was so tall himself she rather liked wearing them around him. She had almost black hair, though it was brown when the light hit it, that went past her shoulders, complimented by the unruly bangs that shadowed her dark eyes. Liz was a casual woman, who typically wore such things as white button up shirts and tan dress-skirts. She was younger than John, being only twenty nine, yet at times it seemed that her experience in life was just as knowledgeable if not more so in some fields - handling human emotions to name one.

"So," she began, handing him a flute of wine and finding her seat across from him on one of the smaller chairs, "what's on your mind?"

"Well," he began after taking a sip, "first I'd like to know what that baffled looking old hag was doing here."

"She wanted a reading." Liz sighed. "She dreamed her sister was killed at the hands of the Devil, and she wanted to see if it was true."

"Was it?"

"I didn't get a chance to finish. She was rattled and unnerved on arrival and by the time we both managed to sit down, she jolted up and headed for the door, exclaiming that she didn't want to know. It was awkward in a sense. Of course, you meet all kinds of people in this field."

"Probably just senile. For all you know her sister died years ago." John shrugged. Liz furrowed her brows at him. "You know how old people forget things when they lose their mind." he added, explaining his doubt in the poor old thing.

"I don't know, John. There was something about her. I can't quite put my finger on it…but anyway, let's talk." Liz was always eager to listen to John. He found it somewhat amusing how she found him so interesting.

"I've been seeing an old friend of mine of late; one I thought I'd never see again."

"Who on Earth?"

"Adam Pool."

"Really? How is he? He's like a legend in Exorcism." Liz beamed, but her excitement was dampened by John's frown.

"Legend." he sighed, shaking his head. "He _was_ a legend."

Liz curled her legs into her chair and listened with open ears. The expression on John's face and the dim light in his eyes made her uneasy but eager to venture on in discovering what was troubling him so.

"I found him doing janitor work at Midnite's not two days ago. I offered to take him to my place for a drink, seeing as how it had been years, and he looked like rundown shit anyway."

"Shit?"

"He's homeless, living on the streets." John went on and Liz gasped silently.

"Homeless? John, did you just say homeless?"

John glanced up, un-heartened by the disbelieving half-grin she displayed.

"Yes. Homeless. The man told me he lost every damn thing he had. After his brother was killed he picked up a heavy drinking habit that drained him of everything including work, his friends, his money and even his woman. Now he's a sick, pitiful bastard living in the streets, scavenging and hoping for any companionship he can get. He's a loner, a loser, a street dog."

The room fell into a tense silence. Liz hadn't seen John Constantine this troubled since he had brought her the drawing of the Spear. Now she was stressed, searching hard for a good way to comfort him without being an annoyance. It wasn't easy comforting a man like John, and Liz knew there was only one real way to do it.

"And you're afraid that you're headed down the same road, right?" her words brought his eyes upon her slowly and he furrowed his brows, knowing that once again Liz had hit the nail on the head. He was afraid, he honestly was; and she saw it in his face. "It's plausible." Liz went on. "Look at you John, the only reason you've given up smoking is because you're smart. You know a good opportunity for a second chance when you see it; but you still drink, you're still heavily depressed, your friends are fewer now with Chas, Beeman and even poor old Hennessey dead. So where do you turn? Me. You've stumbled upon a picture that frightens you. When you look at Adam now you see the reflection of _your _future; and it scares you, John."

Damn she was good, John thought. In a way he despised how she always knew him before he knew himself. Being psychic was indeed an advantage; but Liz was good at deciphering people anyhow. She always had been.

"I could use a _cigarette_ now." John commented, rolling his shaken fingers through his hair.

"No you couldn't," Liz snapped, looking at him with light disgust, "but a cigarette could certainly use you. What better way to contaminate your lungs, right?" she scowled.

"I was merely commenting."

"It's a stupid way to express yourself then."

"Listen, it's not an easy habit to break. It doesn't fucking mean I'm gonna fall back into the same hole. You said yourself that I was smart."

"Are you John? Are you really smart?" Liz leaned forward, her feet falling back to the floor. John was uneasy now and somewhat displeased. "You don't have much money in your account. Even you aren't the great Exorcist you once were. Face it John, a lot of us are getting old and withered in ourselves; and you've already lost your apprentice. We can't keep going on like this forever. We aren't Vampires. We're human beings, mortals…we age."

"Dammit Liz, I know all this! Don't you know that?" John jolted up from the cushion, pacing now and throwing his hands about as he expressed himself.

Liz watched carefully in an observatory way. At length, she could take no more of this; him looking like a lost fool drowned in a controlled society where money was the key to survival and where useless lives were valued not. She stood then, walking behind him and stopping his brisk frenzy.

"John," she began, her voice rekindling it's gentle flare. His eyes rendered her with weary interest. "Just look at it this way; instead of taking your meeting Adam as a bad omen, let it be a wakeup call for you. You're still a very young man, you're only in your late thirties. You can avoid these bad decisions and these bitter roads that Adam fell victim to."

"Now you make it sound simple; like my getting upset was a big waste." he said bitterly.

"That's not the case at all." she corrected him. "It's only natural to react, you'd be a blind idiot not to. But don't let it leave you hopeless. John, just because Adam's life didn't work out doesn't mean your's won't. Besides, at least he still has one friend who cares about him. Maybe you happening upon him is _his_ new awakening too. Fate has a funny way of working things out, ya know."

"Fate...Fate...I guess you're right." he said, nodding gently at her. After a minute and a half, something slipped out of him. It was a low-toned and sincere "Thanks Liz." His lips held a weak partial grin for a few seconds before he told her goodbye and when they parted Liz found that she had been stricken with a terrible headache that led her to desire a much needed nap on the comfort of her bed. She couldn't help but marvel in thought at the _thanks_ he had so generously gave her. She couldn't remember the last time he told her thanks. Maybe the whole finding Adam had taught John even more about life than she suspected. If one thing was for certain, it was that fate _was_ a funny little thing indeed.

†††

Liz woke up in a sweat, how many hours had left her behind she wasn't sure, but looking out the window in her breathless haste she could tell easily that late noon was here now. Without hesitation she leaped from the bed and trampled crazily out of her flat. Down the stairs she raced and out into the streets she found herself; her feet carried her down the sidewalks and across the fairly busy roads. At one point she managed to hail a cab and once she arrived at the Bowling Alley, she climbed out of the car, tossing some money to the driver and quickening up to John's room. She pounded the door unsteadily and he opened it with wariness.

"Liz? What the he-"

"John!" she gasped, drained of her steady breaths. "John, I had a vision!"

"Get the hell in here." he commanded, pulling her in abruptly and bolting the door. Liz tried to keep her footing as best she could as she spun around quickly finding John staring at her with suspicion. "What kind of vision did you have?"

"It was about Hell, fire, rage and," she swallowed, "revenge."

"Revenge?"

"I saw a woman's face. She was old, and Indian too. John, I know it was the sister of the old woman who came to me today!"

John looked on to her with great interest, waiting for her to carry on.

"She was...in Ravenscar and this dark shadow crept before her. I could feel its strength. It wasn't like Mammon, but it was very powerful."

"What?!"

"Let me finish. I saw a dark cloud haze over the city and I saw you…you were…you were lying on your stomach and you looked up and you spoke nothing. You were so weak."

"So what are you getting at here?"

"I think someone's out to get you, John. Somebody means to pay you back for something."

"Gabriel?"

"No, whatever this is it was born in Hell. I could feel it." Liz swallowed again.

John Constantine was worried. Her visions never lied and he knew it to be more than a minor nightmare. Then he wondered if it knew about Angela and the Spear; this shadow that Liz had seen.

"So what do you think it could be?" she asked. "Do you think it was one of the Shadow Demons?"

"I don't know." said John. "But there's only one way to find out."

**To Be Continued.**


	6. Unraveling The Clues

**Unraveling The Clues**

She honestly didn't know what she was thinking exactly in that moment or exactly what she was feeling. Her emotions were being churned and mixed in her queasy gut and her mind was in a twilight of surrealism. The chill in the place sent goose bumps about her neck and her arms, and air was literally breathed with force it seemed, for she was so drowned in her daze until she nearly forgot her lungs.

The woman over the loudspeaker rung her announcements for the next flight in the great lobby, the speaker echoing her voice throughout the open place. Angela was bare of heavy luggage and now the satchel at her side carried only the clothes she had brought along. The ticket she planned to burn as quick as she could get a hold of a box of matches - the less evidence, the better.

Being back in L.A. was a relief and the first person on her mind as of right now was Duck; and she wasted no time in arriving at the Pet Hotel, picking him up and heading home to her comfortable apartment.

"Duck," Angela began, during their drive, "I've been on one heck of a trip. I'd gladly tell you where, but I promised I'd follow _The Rules_."

Duck glanced her way from the small crate, thinking nothing at all of what she said but rather of how happy he was to see her again. He purred contently and cued softly and Angela gave him a smile.

"I thought you'd understand." she chuckled.

She had the worst case of jetlag, with it being her first flight, and her eyes were so heavy she feared at times she'd fall asleep behind the wheel - but this night was just beginning. There was something antecedent about this night. Angela couldn't ignore it. She could always tell when things were about to happen - it was the sixth sense she had never been able to deny - and after all that had happened with Constantine, that sixth sense was stronger than ever. Her gut was growing into a knot just thinking about it and her bare arms were covered yet again by that chilling goose skin, the tiny hairs standing up as if magnetized to do so.

The apartment was comfortably quiet and everything was just as she had left it. The mess on her office desk was still waiting for her to clean it and the kitchen was still displaying an awkward arrangement of empty coffee mugs atop its counters. Once released from his crate, Duck headed to the couch, grooming himself quietly as Angela tossed the satchel on the floor. She inhaled then and sighed deeply. The answer machine was beeping, its light flashing red.

_Beep_… It was followed by a brief silence, and the faint breathing in the background made her hopeful that it was merely hesitation and not a prank caller. "_Angela_," It was John's voice. "_It's me. I'm just…calling to see if you're home yet_."…_Beep_.

"John." she mused. "He must've been…" she paused. "He was probably wanting to know if I got it done."

_Beep_…"_Angela, this is Weiss. It's twelve noon. I know you're expected to be back today, so if you get this message call me back as soon as possible_." There was an unsettled tone in him and his voice revealed insecurity.

The little dialing tone made a hasty little tune as Angela's finger pressed the buttons. Weiss was unable to get a hold of her on the cell because Angela had turned it off with only the best intentions for safety.

"Weiss, this is Angela."

"_Angela, I'm glad you're back_."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"_There's been a homicide at the Ravenscar Asylum. Melina Abdulla, a sixty one year old Nurse. She was found dead last night with her chest ripped open_."

"Oh my God."

"_I know, I know. You're probably thinking about a nice long nap after that trip of yours; but to be blunt we really need you down here at Ravenscar_."

"Ravenscar?"

"_Yea. We're still searching for evidence. Angie, I really need your assistance_."

"Alright." she sighed. "Wait for me."

After hanging up, Angela glanced towards Duck, seeing that he was already fast asleep himself. Briefly she wished she was a cat with nothing to do but sleep, eat, play and be waited on hand and foot.

"I'll be back soon, Duck." she said as she briskly grabbed her coat, keys and headed out the door. She peeped in through the crack once more and said, "Don't get too lonely without me."

_Meow_.

†††

That entire hallway had been roped. Every patient on that wing had been relocated to new rooms. John and Liz stood before the rope, unable to pass through and investigate for themselves, watching as a Cop with a German Shepherd Dog came striding out of one room - apparently they had not found whatever it was they were looking for.

"Looks like it's already happened." sighed Liz. "There's still some dry blood here and there. You sense anything?"

"Just death…obviously. You?"

"Nope. Nothing." she released a final exhalation.

They became silent and stood watching for a time side by side deriving, Liz fancied, a sort of comfort in each other's company. Constantine's wrist watch went from nine pm to ten thirty five pm before anything further happened. The crowd of cops and medical personnel seemed to grow and John heard a faint murmur from them. The little knot of nurses dispersed then; and afterwards there was hardly another animation of movement from the corridor.

During that moment, a little hissing sound became audible. John heard it well and noted that Liz had too as her expression was written with the same suspicion. In a minute that hissing collapsed and they heard it no more. Not a one of the cops or medical personnels noticed it once. It was then that Constantine heard the frequent steps of two people striding towards he and Liz, and when he glanced to see them he was delighted at the sight of Angela.

"John," she breathed. In the light of the corridor, the Detective looked rather pale and her eyes spoke for themselves - that she was clearly stolen of rest.

"Angela." He spoke her name in a low volume.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Weiss asked, his arm still bound in a cast. John shot him a cold glare before casting his eyes back upon Angela.

"It's okay, Weiss." she said.

"This is a crime scene." Weiss went on, speaking over his partner. "Why haven't they sent you off?"

"Look here," John began, "I got as much business here as-"

"Weiss, do you mind if I have a word with Mr. Constantine in private?" Angela was eager to cut into their growing brawl.

Weiss hesitated for a moment, often glancing John with unwelcoming suspicion; but at last he nodded and said,

"Alright. But don't take too long. I need your assistance." He climbed over the 'Do Not Cross' line and stepped over to the group of cops that rounded where the body had been outlined on the floor.

"Who's this?" Angela asked, heeding the presence of Liz.

"A friend of mine."

"Hi." Liz brushed past John, giving Angela a half-smirk and a steady handshake. "My name is Elizabeth Hunter. I'm a psychic and I had a vision that this happened. Unfortunately, my visions come after the crime has been committed."

"A psychic." Angela thought. "I happen to be one myself…well, in a sense."

"John told me about you. I'm sorry about your sister."

"Thanks."

"Angela," John interrupted, "did you complete your task?"

"Yea. I did." she uttered, still taken by the presence of a psychic who was quite eager to state herself as such.

"Good. Now how about letting Liz and I in?" His request was firm and Angela nodded in reluctant agreement. One Cop nearly attempted to ask the strangers to leave the scene immediately, but Weiss halted the man saying,

"Forget it."

The young Cop rendered his eyes, seeing them dart towards the sight of Angela who gave both of them a look of assurance. Immediately, Dodson began questioning everyone there with John at her side and Liz lingering in the back.

"Have you found any traceable evidence of the murderer? Any hair or skin particles?" she pressed.

"We haven't been able to find anything." said one older Detective. "The only thing that pops out as a liable source is that the same night it happened, a patient disappeared."

"Who?" Angela asked.

"A woman who turned herself in as a lunatic days back. She went by Molly Greystone but when the doctors looked her up, they found nothing about a Molly Greystone of her appearance or age. They never could get anything out of her about who she was or where she was from, so they just labeled her crazy." the older Detective explained.

"Can you tell me more about what she was like?"

"Skinny, young…about in her late twenties." one Doctor cut in. "Long brown hair. She had a lot of crazy fits too. It wasn't unusual for us to have to drug her up just to calm her down. She was hysterical."

"Sounds like she was crazy enough to commit a murder." Weiss commented, his unbound arm finding its way to his coat pocket.

"Maybe." the Doctor added with a light shrug.

"Well Dodson," the older Detective began again, "we've concluded it to be a possible hate crime. The strange thing however is that her chest was not tore open by any weapon. There is no evidence to support it."

"Are you saying it was more likely to have ripped open on its own? Because how else could it have happened?" Angela asked. The Detective only sighed in response and shook his head in utter confusion. No one really seemed to have any answers whatsoever, and it was obvious that if this Molly Greystone was behind the murder, it wasn't committed at her own hands. If it were so, they would've found physical evidence; a hair, a fingerprint…something. But John Constantine and Liz Hunter suspected a supernatural force; and Angela herself was beginning to suspect the same thing.

"This Molly Greystone," Now John was ready to interrogate, "did she by any chance utter things or do things that would've gave way to her being behind this?"

"She frequently cried." one Doctor spoke up. "She was always angry and full of grief. You could see it in her face; she was pissed at someone. One afternoon when she was having another tantrum, we came in to give her something to calm her down and I heard her uttering a name."

"What name?" Angela requested.

"The last name I can't quite remember; it sounded rather funny. But the first name was John…maybe an ex-boyfriend or something."

"Does Constantine ring a bell?" asked John, his face growing colder by the second.

"That's it!" beamed the Doctor. "It was Constantine! I'm certain it was!"

"Jesus Christ." John shifted away from Angela and Liz, and the two women exchanged glares before they began to trail after him.

"John wait! Where are you going?" but he ignored Angela and before she and Liz could get anything out of him, he led them both before an elevator some many feet down from the corridor of crime.

John's coat shifted and wavered about, following the rhythm of his frantic pacing. Angela stood open mouthed and speechless; but she didn't have to say anything, John was already about to do that.

"Ellie!" he mouthed harshly, scowling at the name. He felt an extraordinary persuasion that he was being played with.

"Ellie?" Angela arched a brow. "Who's Ellie?"

"His old girlfriend." Liz scoffed slightly. "John never was much for taste back in the old days."

"This is no time for jokes, Liz! This is serious shit here!"

"I'm not joking!"

"Okay, calm down." Angela commanded. "Now tell me what the heck is going on."

"Ellie is a Half-Breed. I should've deported her sorry little ass when I had the chance. Now she's running loose around the city; turning herself in as insane, cursing me and now a crime has been committed, followed by her _sudden_ disappearance." John deciphered. "Something's up."

"Hold it John. You don't know for sure. I know Ellie was always a tad bit obsessed with you, but she never really was that much of a threat."

"Liz, you don't know her like me. She's a damn snake…she sure as hell turned on me like one in Ravenscar."

"Ravenscar?" Angela questioned.

"Yea. Ravenscar. When I went to save you, she was waiting on me along with a bunch of other Half-Breeds. She took sides and I've sworn an oath to myself to never trust that little filth again."

"Really John?" Angela crossed her arms, glancing him cautiously; but John's disarray was too much for him to notice the slight doubt in her.

"Listen, I've got to go and find her. She could be behind something big." He spun around, turning his back toward them and pressing the button of the elevator.

"John, wait!" Angela halted him.

"What?" he snapped.

"How do you expect to find her?"

"Same way I always did. Wherever all the other vultures mingle." He stepped briskly into the elevator and Liz jolted in beside him. Angela, baffled and confused, watched as the doors slid closed upon the sight of them.

"So what's the plan?" Liz questioned as the elevator took them down.

"Plan? What plan?"

"Don't you have a plan?"

"How can I have a fucking plan before I even know what's going on?"

"Don't look at me. You got yourself into this mess." Liz murmured.

"What?" John stared her down coldly, expecting an explanation for the remark.

"You're the one who was quick to trust Ellie in the first place."

"Oh, like I would know. I'm not that gifted." he motioned his pointed finger towards his head, hinting that he wasn't the one with the 'visions'. Liz rolled her eyes.

"You shouldn't have let her go then." she added. "Listen John, I'd love to accompany you on this little ex-girlfriend hunt, but I need to get home. I'm hoping to speak with the sister of the victim."

"Well if you find anything, let me know."

"I always do."

They parted ways and Liz headed home. John on the other hand had a taxi to hail and once he managed to catch a ride - which wasn't hard around Ravenscar - he requested Ellie's address. They arrived not long after and John tipped the Cabbie before trailing up to the townhouse. He pounded the door then and tried staring into the windows.

The place was dark inside. He saw Ellie's old BMW sedan parked outside, but he suspected her not to be home.

Midnite was the last option that night, and his Club was the last choice for further investigations. If Ellie was up to something, or if she knew anything, John had to find out soon and maybe Midnite would be able to tell if the Balance was tipped again. It was rush hour, no doubt.

**To Be Continued.**


	7. Balthazar's Scheme

**Balthazar's Scheme**

Ellie puffed her cigarette with her back laid against the wall, her hazel eyes musing at Balthazar who stood firm and straight over the rooftop's edge. His hands were folded behind him, his body clad in a fresh suit he had robbed from another civilian. Ellie was still clothed in the medical garments and she was unpleased with it. There was a stiffness in the air and they were still waiting for the report from one of the Scavengers. Who knew what the beast would bring them.

"Okay Balthazar." she began, keeping her serious face. "What's the plan here?"

"Ah Ellie." Balthazar breathed her name in the night, a mist of faint breath-smog escaping him; not smog for cold air but rather due to the steam boiling within him. "You are an amateur compared to myself."

"Give me a break. I'm more devious than you think. Besides," she smirked, "it's not like you've told me anything yet."

"Just be patient." Balthazar hissed.

"Patient." she scoffed. "So, does that suit fit?"

"Perfectly well."

"How do you plan on getting John dammed again? What kind of big plan are you contemplating if you're so sure of yourself?"

"I thought that perhaps I could use you to participate in that. You used to be his," Balthazar turned and eyed her mindfully, "little flame?" The way he arched his brow seemed to mock her, and Ellie wasn't pleased one bit. Now it was all too clear in a way that all the other Half-Breed skanks could, by some chance, know far too well that John didn't want her. To be turned down was an un-vigorous title for any Succubus. Ellie frowned then, her finger flinching the cigarette aside and her eyes full of bitter angst.

"But that was before the Dodson twin entered his life, wasn't it?" Balthazar went on, grinning at the fury in Ellie's eyes. "That's what it is, isn't it? You're angry because he left you. He left you for a…good girl. I guess Johnny Boy really did have a soft side after all." Balthazar eased his eyes back to the sight of the city streets and neighboring towers.

"Shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear that shit!" Ellie snapped. Balthazar turned around once more, then, stomping forward and grasping her skinny throat, he pressed her body against the wall behind her.

"Listen!" he hissed as Ellie winced and choked. "Do you really want to end up on the backburner? Is the hall of defeat the place you want your name inscribed? Or do you want to do something about it? If we can reclaim John's soul to the Boss and take down the other Dodson twin, we can be victorious over him, you and I! We can have our revenge on Johnny Boy, both of us, and Lucifer can reclaim what is his. Imagine it Ellie, you coming out on top for once; and with that little nice girl cop out of the way, you can have him all to yourself again just like you want…maybe it'll be in Hell, but still."

"What do you want with the twin, huh?" she gasped.

"Lucifer had to grant Constantine's wish, remember? He asked the Boss to let her go home, so he did. If the Boss can't have Isabel, then he can at least have Angela. The more souls we collect, the better points we receive, you and I…do you follow? You know Lu can't have the 'gifted' ones standing in the way."

"Just tell me what to do!" Ellie managed to gut out and Balthazar dropped her to the concrete.

"First, we need a deploy. John's likely going to find out about the murders."

"You mean the ones you've committed?"

"Yes." he hissed, looking down at Ellie as she remained seated on her rump, still rubbing her squeezed throat. "He'll suspect something _not of this world_."

"Yea." Ellie growled.

A flutter of wings shrouded their ears and Balthazar turned and glanced behind himself, grinning cleverly at the sight of a Scavenger making a landing on the roof's edge. The beast shrilled and kindled a grin, its eyes brightening in their demonic glow.

"And what news do you bring? Anything?" Balthazar asked. The creature spoke in an ancient tongue of darkly spoken words, but both Balthazar and Ellie understood perfectly well. Then Balthazar was pleased and he sent the beast away and it left them from the rooftop, its wings beating the air loudly as it dispersed from the scene. "She's back. The Dodson twin is back in Los Angeles." He turned back to the sight of Ellie and she knitted her brows at him as he said with selfish pride, "City of Hell." His eyes were flaming and he licked his lips like a serpant.

"What's the assignment?" she purred, getting back to her feet. Balthazar leaned forward and whispered in her ear, his hot breath making her cringe slightly.

"Go to Midnite's. Tell him you need a job. From there you can keep tabs; and unlike myself, you're more likely to be welcomed back into the realm."

"I don't think he'll give it to me." she said demurely.

"He will. Now go. Tell him you sensed a force in Ravenscar, that you were afraid that someone was there to collect your soul…you don't want to go to Hell, you want to stay. You got scared. Someone got killed."

"Leading me around blindly on a leash isn't a very good idea."

"I still have planning to do."

"You'd better do that planning with me, Bally."

"I'll do it with whom I please. Now do as I request before I change my mind and put you out of commission."

"Already with the threats, are we?"

"Don't toy with me, Ellie. I'm not your Johnny Boy…You know how to play the innocent damsel in distress."

Ellie frowned but she obeyed without further questioning, leaving in unscathed strides. Balthazar watched until she dissapeared and then he returned his gaze to the city skyline once more. To Ellie he appeared confident and eager, but secretly there was a subconcious insecurity that dwelled within his black heart. Now the possibilities were coming all too clear again, the reminding of how John so easily deported him. It was something most wouldn't suspect, for a cold and ruthless Demon to have worries and dread; but he honestly did because Balthazar wasn't stupid, and he didn't want to make the same mistake twice. He enhaled then and straightened his slumping back, pulling himself up from the resting upon his knee. Balthazar, being less cowardly than some of his kind, never denied a mission. He couldn't afford to, especially now, and he wanted to carry it out anyway. John had to suffer.

Whilst he dwelled on the rooftop, Ellie went to Midnite's without any pit stops. The Club was full that night, late as it was, and Ellie got in without any trouble - she always did. The office she headed for immediately and she wanted to grin at the curious gaping of the other Half-Breeds who wondered why she was clad only in patient's garment, but she tamed her lips to a firm frown until of course the reminder of what further things they may know of her came to mind, then she looked at all but their faces.

Midnite glanced up from his desk, his cigar smoking up the office. He was amusing himself silently with a game of solitaire but once he caught a glimpse of a wary Ellie he dropped the cards and furrowed his brows at her.

"And what brings this little daughter of Lilith to me this night? I thought I smelled the essence of a rat before it crawled through my doors uninvited."

"Really? I was certain that my membership here was good for at least another year." she said with subtle sarcasm.

"You didn't make an appointment to see the Witchdoctor. What do you want?"

"I want to talk…" Ellie rounded one of the chairs and plopped down nervously - as nervous as she could act. It was difficult for her eyes to train on the sight of Midnite because she feared that he would easily see right through her. "I've been in Ravenscar for some time." she said, twitching her fingers in her lap.

"No joke." said Midnite, glancing her garments.

"I had to go somewhere. I was lost, and…" she glanced him briefly, seeing the un-amused expression on his face and the frequent stroking of his goatee. "…anyway, one of the Nurses was murdered. I know that something from Hell did it. I could sense it, Midnite. I left immediately."

"You mean you didn't stay around long enough to greet your friend?" he taunted.

"Friend? Cut me some slack. I'm almost running scared here."

"You wanted for something? You were born in Hell. Why run from it?"

"I can't go back there." she said. "I'm not as bad as the others…you know that." She twitched her brow.

"Come now, Ellie. You think me a fool? All you Half-Breed Demons are bad."

"I have a feeling that someone may be looking for me. Maybe trying to take me home."

"Then let them."

"I don't want to."

"Then what? You hide here? No."

"I want a job, Midnite. Please. Give me something to do. Make me useful."

"I gave the last job to a homeless man."

"Come on." Ellie begged. "There's got to be something for me to do."

"There may be yet." said Midnite, looking past her at the doors. "We have company."

Ellie heard the door fling open violently as it pounded the walls before swinging shut again.

"Hello, Midnite." said a displeased voice.

"John Constantine. How many times must I tell you to make an appointment…I was enjoying a quiet game of solitaire."

"It can wait." said Constantine. Ellie could hear him coming closer. She cast her eyes amongst the floor, cowering in her seat. "What's this? Am I interrupting something?"

"Ellie wants a job, John. You have something for her to do?"

"I might." Constantine stated, gripping Ellie by the collar of her garment and pulling her abruptly to her feet. She winced and sneered at him and he spat towards her feet. "Ellie." he uttered in the volume of disgust. "There's been some shit happening over at Ravenscar. Some poor old woman was murdered by an undetectable force…and would you by any chance know a Molly Greystone?…Of course you would."

"I was just trying to stay undercover!" she sputtered.

"And for good reasons, I'm sure." He pulled her closer by the wrist, gripping her arm in his hand, the medical band cutting into her skin. "Should I deport you here or shall we do it outside?"

"Hold it there, John. You know the rules." Midnite threatened.

"And Ellie's broke em'."

"I haven't done anything John! I swear!"

John was reluctant but there was no obvious signs of lying in her face. She looked desperate, maybe haggard and broken with her hair tangled and her eyes boasting dark circles. He released her from his grip, shoving her roughly back into the chair. She stumbled into it painfully.

"Tell me what you know about it." he demanded.

"All I know is what I just told Midnite here. I sensed a powerful intensity and I heard a brief cry from the hallway. I fled afterwards, out the window. I suspected that something might have come to take me…home. But I'm not ready to go, John."

"What were you doing in Ravenscar then?" John demanded. Midnite watched silently at the confrontation from the comfort of his desk, finishing the last puffs of his cigar.

"I turned myself in because I needed some rehab. I was a mess…after everything that happened."

"The side you took was your choice, Ellie."

"I know that." she stated, holding her own better than she thought she would. "It's the only place I felt that I could belong…after you took sides yourself with that _woman_." she briefly looked away, attempting to boast a plausible dissapointment.

"Don't try that sympathy shit with me. There ain't nothing pitiful about you except your futile reason for existence." he spat.

"Come on, John. Cut me some slack. I mean no harm here, I just want a job." she curdled a clever grin. "I learned my lesson."

"You're not worth a second chance." John said grimly.

"You must have thought so." she threw back. "You're the one who let me go, remember?"

"Another one of my temporal mistakes."

"Are you admitting to something here?" Ellie asked, her lips curling into a deeper smirk.

"Yea." John told her. "You."

"What did you come for, John?" Midnite asked. "Please tell me. I have no intension of playing referee."

"I came to tell you about the murder at Ravenscar. The cops couldn't trace anything, no clues, no sort of fingerprints…nothing. I spoke with Liz earlier today. She came rushing to my apartment afterwards, telling me about a vision she had…about the murder. That's how I found out."

"Well," Midnite folded his hands over the surface of his desk, "I have no answers for you now. The scales are level. But now with Ellie's coming the night may bring me more repercussions yet." He exhaled the final blow from his cigar before pressing its tip against the ashtray.

"Then I'll leave you to think on it, Midnite." John then turned back to the sight of Ellie who snarled at him from her seat. "And I'll keep a close eye on you, Half-Breed."

"Goodbye John." Midnite said, hinting for him to take his leave.

John did leave them and Ellie received a job at the bar, doing dishes. Midnite put her to work immediately after giving her some clothes borrowed from one of the female dancer's dressing rooms. It was a flashy dress and Ellie was glad to be in it. She was glad also to have achieved the current goal. The Bartender acknowledged her after some minor attempts at convincing.

"Alright." the Bartender said gruffly. "Go on to the back and load the dishwashers. There's a group of clean ones already laid out on the counter. Bring those out once you've gathered em' in the tray and put em' under the bar. Don't break anything."

Ellie cursed mildly underneath her breath. Thanks to Balthazar, she was lowered to nothing more than a dishwasher. What nerve he had.

John mingled a bit longer himself, finding a place to sit at one of the empty tables near the back of the place. There was a group of Half-Breeds chuckling and carrying on not too many feet apart from him and often he eyed them with resentment; and they flashed the same glare at him, their eyes glowing a flaming red. Then he looked away. The excitement of the events had left his perceptive powers in a state of erethism.

**To Be Continued.**


	8. Deputize Me

**Deputize Me**

He remembered that dinner table with extraordinary vividness even after all these years. His dear wife's fair anxious face peering across at him under the light of the chandelier, the silk cloth with its porcelain china, the crimson-red wine in his glass. It was all photographically distinct.

"I really don't care anymore." he had said, fingering his wineglass. "I really don't give a shit to be blunt with you." His gruff sigh was the opening for another set of bitter words. "Why should I care? Why does anyone care?"

"Your brother wouldn't want-"

"Just stop there." he blundered in words at her. "Don't even bring it up to me. I don't want to hear that cheap line. You didn't even know him half as well as I. He was_ my_ brother! Mine!" He was selfish, erratic and she wondered if he even knew how he sounded.

The room fell silent and the two of them didn't speak for a good amount of time. In fact, they said nothing else that night and he was clueless in the reality of what one soon to come morning would bring; that this would be the very last conversation they would transverse between one another.

At the end of that dinner in which no one ate, he sat tempering with his cigarette lighter by the fire - the cigarette itself unlit in his mouth - regretting his rashness that day. He could still hear her moving about in the dining room, putting away the dishes that displayed cold food. His coming home late that day had been an utter betrayal in a respect. After receiving the news about his brother a few days back, he had suddenly disappeared, leaving Carol watered down with sorrow and fret. Each day he would stay out late leaving her clueless at the exact hour of his arrival. But today he had called her, announcing that he was on his way home and generously she prepared him the finest of meals in hopes of bringing the man she loved a bit of cheer on this grim day; but instead he arrived four hours later and he found her sitting worriedly at the dinner table with her hands folded under her chin. When he had walked in, her blue eyes lit up their brightest and she offered to warm his plate; but harshly Adam had refused and plopped himself down sloppily.

Carol came into the den at last, walking through only to retreat to the bedroom. When Adam glanced her, he saw that her face was deadly white and her brows were knitted over her troubled eyes. A small longing in Adam made him want to beckon to her, to embrace and apologize for his cold shoulder; but when he opened his mouth to speak, not a word came out and he watched with silent sourness as she disappeared. That night he did not go to her - the door was locked out of spite anyhow - and he slept on the couch instead. This carried on for about another week.

When a new morning came, that reality called to him and Adam found that the bedroom was bare of human life and empty of his wife's belongings, save the furniture. The car was gone also and there was a small note waiting for him on the dresser. He brought it to his hand gently, but it smelled not of perfume as her little love notes often did. The words were scribbled upon the paper in a regretful haste and the ink of his name was dampened by a teardrop. It read:

_Adam,_

_I cannot take this silent abuse any longer. I have wanted to bring you comfort and I have tried to support you in this difficult time with the passing of Charles; but instead you bid me leave, bear your eyes at me like an old brute and you curse God and blame him for everything - along with me. I love you, if I didn't our life together would not have come so far, but I won't be taken for granted by you. I am leaving Adam. Where I'm going I do not know. But do not contact me or trail after me. I've had quite enough of it all. I want to go back to teaching and I want to live my life in light, not in bitter darkness. You won't let me in, so I want out. I dread to say that this is goodbye._

_I'll always love you wherever I go. Please know this. But I have to get out from under this stone that you've buried me under. I only hope that you can understand this much at least._

_~Carol_

_Go after her_, he thought. _Don't let her go_, his mind kept telling him on and off that day; but Adam's feet stayed planted upon the floors of that empty house for a long time to come - as long as the Bank would let him. What a bum he became, what a bum indeed.

Today, or rather, tonight, he was sitting in Midnite's Club alone at the bar with his hand wrapped firmly about a half-empty wine glass and a burning cigarette pinched between the fingers of his other hand he let rest on the counter. The bar was empty, but the dance floor was alive and loud. That mutated Bartender was continuously wiping the glasses clean and glancing Adam's way, curious about the transfixed motionless stare he cast upon the surface of the bar. Adam however, heeded to nothing or no one. His mind was in another place in time and his heart was trying to convince his past self to go after her…_go after her_.

"Dammit." he uttered to himself, still numb of the world around him. "Damn you, you bloody fool. Why'd you let her go? Why'd you do her like that when all she wanted to do was what any good woman would do? Cause' you're a pitiful excuse for a human being, that's why." he finished, taking a final sip of the wine.

He dropped his thoughts for a moment then, thinking that he felt something staring him from behind. He was always good at sensing someone's stare and it seemed to pull him slowly back to the current day. Then a hand gripped his shoulder, and although the touch was slow and gentle, Adam jumped slightly and turned his head to see the stranger.

"John." he mouthed.

"Adam, I need to talk to you." John waited for Adam to stand, but the old Bloke was still trying to grip the situation before him. "…Outside." John went on.

"Oh, right." Slowly, Adam pulled himself up from the stool, fingering clumsily in his pockets for some change. John had no patience for this and quickly he tossed his own coins and dollars onto the table. "I have it right here, John."

"Just come with me." Constantine ordered. "I just had a word with Midnite…and someone else too."

"Yea," that mutilated Half-Breed Bartender said, "let Constantine pay for it. His ass still owes me for about six drinks!"

"Consider it paid for then." Constantine said.

"That was only one drink!" the brute went on.

"That's all those cheap mixtures you call margaritas are worth anyhow…the price of one." John gripped Adam's shoulder with light firmness and led him out of the Club. The Bartender snatched the change, still cursing John under his breath.

In that instant, Ellie had already come out from the kitchen, managing to catch just enough glance of the two of them turning their backs and leaving. She nearly dropped the tray of glasses and the Bartender stormed at her for not watching her steps.

"Pay attention where you're goin'!" he barked. "Those things get broke, it's comin' outta your paycheck."

"Pipe down, mega mouth." Ellie sneered. She tried to glimpse them further from the bar as she began stacking the glasses on the shelves below, but they disappeared out of sight, pushing their way through the group of Half-Breeds that crowded in the center of the Club. Ellie hurried now in her labor, wanting badly to finish so that she may sneak outside and follow; but the Bartender was determined to bestow onto her further work.

†††

The street outside was vast and dark with only the presence of a sleeping drunk that laid awkwardly amongst a pile of trash. The sound of sirens rung vividly in the distant streets and there was the frequent sound of engines purring on those more lively roads. They both walked now like two men with much on their minds - and they were - with their hands tucked in the pockets of their trench coats, their steps a worried clamp on the pavement beneath them.

"You wanted to talk to me." Adam said at length. "I'm here. Talk to me."

"I didn't notice you in the bar. You in there long?" Constantine asked.

"Yea." Adam sighed and John was not lame of sensing the tension in him - and vise versa. There was something in Adam that appeared rather pliant and John was apt to use the opportunity to make a proposition.

"Adam, something's going on. A Nurse was just murdered in Ravenscar by an invisible force. Whatever it was, the cops can't trace it and I know something supernatural was behind it." John began. "I spoke with Ellie tonight in Midnite's office. I was a bit surprised to find her there…I'd been looking for her but didn't expect any luck tonight."

"I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with an Ellie."

"She was once someone I considered as a…" John hesitated with regret, "…a sort of girlfriend you might say. She's a Half-Breed. She turned on me and tonight I found out she was living it up in Ravenscar as a mental case, going by the name Molly Greystone. When I became aware that she disappeared right after the crime was committed, I suspected her up to something. A Doctor slipped up and mentioned to me that she was cursing my name during her little tantrums. I knew it was her and I was right."

"So she's behind it?"

"Not exactly…at least not from what I can tell. She's lucky she raced to Midnite's. If it weren't for him and his little neutral rulebook, I might have deported her." John said. "She made herself pretty damn believable, claiming she had no idea about anyone or anything that could've been at fault. She only sensed a dark presence, and supposedly fled after she heard a scream."

"And you believed her?"

"Not much choice with Midnite around. But I still have my suspicions…strong ones too. I think the Witchdoctor gave her a job." John sneered. "All I know is that the Nurse was found with her chest literally ripped open. When I got there, there was still dry blood on the walls and floor. They had it roped off, but I got in with the help of Detective Dodson."

Adam glanced him with raised brows.

"Another friend of mine." John told him. "At least one thing worked in my favor tonight."

A brief silence levitated through the air around them until John spoke again.

"Adam, I think something's wrong. I can just feel it." The wariness in John made Adam cringe. "Liz the psychic thinks so too. She suspects that someone may be plotting some pitiful little revenge against me."

"Who? Who do think, John?"

"I'm not sure. What few enemies I still have wandering around, I don't think they have quite enough hate for me to put me down. Ellie's about the only person as of right now that could be behind something…or know something. But I won't get it out of her. I think she's using Midnite as a shield." then John spat, "Fucking know-it-all doesn't even suspect her."

"I wish I knew what to tell you, John." Adam said, shaking his head in disarray. "I truly do, mate."

"Maybe there's something you can do then." John spoke it quickly, as if struggling to hop over the temptations of reluctance and doubt. "I have a proposition."

"Like what?" Adam stopped abruptly, looking at him with knitted brows and a crooked half-grin.

"Adam, I'm emptier of allies. What few I still have they can't lend me the help you can."

"Oh bloody hell!" he laughed with an air of the greatest good humor as he said this. "John, you're kidding yourself! What can I do to help? I'm a bum, a bum, don't you remember? What can these old bones and this old unmanaged brute that hides in the corners of regret and grief do you any good for? Tell me."

"A lot of good, if you'd only see it."

"Don't try that cheap 'learning to believe in yourself' shit with me. This old Bloke don't believe in such fables. He's learned only the hard lessons of life…even you should know better than that."

"So what are you saying?" John asked with a sharp tone of impatience. "That you're going to go ahead and let me know how useless you perceive yourself so I'll leave you the hell alone, is that it? Are you telling me that you're not only a sorry old pitiful bum now, but a laid back one at that?"

"Eh," Adam threatened, pointing his finger at John, "don't accuse me of pitiful. Call me sorry, call me scandral - all these things be true - but don't call me pity and beggar; these titles I've worked hard to avoid."

"You've worked hard to avoid it, huh? What a heap of bullshit that is."

Adam's denial to assist him left John perplexed and frustrated; and when the old man attempted to stride away from him, John lashed out, grabbing his shoulder and forcing the old man to see and hear the man before him.

"Adam, is this all you want? When an opportunity arises, are you really so stupid that you're willing to shun it? I know life's done you in pretty damn bad, but have you lost your common sense in all this too?"

"Common sense." Adam scorned. "What is common sense to you, John? Is common sense running around like a blind bat and searching out invisible forces you can't trace, getting nowhere in the long run?"

"It's what I do." John growled. "It's what I fucking do!" he became raged, a flame there was in his eyes. Adam tried to hide his leery emotions behind his proud unscathed expression. "It's my duty, Adam! Damn you!" he shouted then, shaking the old man by his shoulders. "Dammit, you told me so yourself long ago! It was you, Adam! You're the one who told me I was the wager between Heaven and Hell. You said there was good and evil all around us and that it was our duty to stop them; to keep Lucifer's minions where they belong! Don't you remember?" John grew breathless in his despair and he tried to regain his calm as well as fight the grief that wanted to bound out of him. "Did any of that mean anything to you when you were teaching it to me? You were the only one who gave me something to believe in, to fight for. You made me look at myself in a new light. I had to, even when I didn't want to. It was you, Adam. You opened my eyes…you opened my fucking eyes." John released the old man from his clutch and took his stance a step back. "But it doesn't matter does it? You don't really care about anything anymore. You didn't care about living, you didn't care about fighting for what was your's. You didn't care about Carol," at this Adam bit his tongue and the wrinkles beneath his eyes grew deeper, "and you damn don't give a shit about yourself." John finished. "Go on then. Go back to your liquor. It's the only friend you've got."

Adam didn't watch, but rather listened weakly as John's footsteps dispersed down the dark street that shadowed everything in a lonely gloom. What was he to do, he asked himself. Why did John still expect so much out of him? Why couldn't he just except the fact that the Adam Pool he once knew was gone? He wasn't an Exorcist anymore. His days of heroism were over for good. He was an old homeless man now.

†††

John's shadow crept about the right wall that hugged the stairway to the apartment dwelling like the wandering of a lost soldier. Against the wall was the faint glow of a single wall lantern; but he paused when he heard a weak cough and his eyes glimpsed the unexpected sight of Detective Dodson standing there and looking at him tiredly at the top of the stairwell. He had been late of noticing her before with his eyes trained only on the steps that he clambered on.

"Angela," he uttered with bitter exhaustion, "what are you doing here?" He was hardly pleased at all to see her, she presumed, and he climbed on up then and stood impatiently, waiting for her to explain her reason for coming so that he may go about his business.

"I wanted to talk to you." she said.

"This late? It better be important." John's rude impression made her uneasy.

"Well," she defended herself, "it _is _important. Why else would I show up on your doorstep this late?"

John shot her a cold glance before brushing past her and making way to his flat, but as cold as the glance was it wasn't a scowl. It was almost a revealing look of hopelessness. After unlocking and opening his door, he waited for her to step inside.

"Make it quick." he requested.

Angela's sigh was of unruly dread for what may come from him. As she stepped in, the place was filled with an aura of discomfort. Maybe being back here for her was awkward due to the previous memories of all that John had revealed to her of Hell, or maybe it was just being back home and the obvious sensation of a sleepless body that daunted her. She turned around by the time her feet had reached the table, hearing him bolt the door unsteadily. She noted then the shaking of his hands, and as he turned to face her he saw this and hid them in the boundaries of his pockets.

"So," he shrugged once, "what's on your mind?" He bolted for the kitchen, searching in needy haste for a beer.

"I wanted to talk actually…about what's going on."

He turned and rendered her from the kitchen, his head just beneath the shelves that were piled with cardboard boxes, a floodlight and other junk. He sipped his beer and awaited her to carry on.

"I'm worried, John." she confessed. "I know something's wrong. I felt it when I got back tonight…from my flight."

"I thought you might." he said, popping the bottle open with a lid opener. "I feel it too."

"What about this Ellie? Did you have any luck in finding her?"

"Surprisingly," he sighed, "yes. Found her at Midnite's. Little devil was looking for a job there. I forced the truth out of her, or at least what she wanted me to consider as truth. She claimed she felt an evil presence in the halls of Ravenscar, and after she heard a cry she fled, thinking that something from Hell might have come to take her home." There was doubt in his voice.

"But you suspect otherwise."

"Somewhat." he told her.

"Did she get a job?"

"I imagine Midnite, the owner of the Club, expressed enough sympathy to put her to some use."

"I need you to help me take her into Headquarters for some questioning then." Angela's request took him by an amusing surprise.

"To Headquarters?"

"Yes. I need to question her myself."

"So my word's not good enough."

"Trust isn't the issue here, John. It's just what I have to do as a Cop. Sometimes the more a criminal is interrogated, the more you get out of them…if she is at fault."

"You won't get anything out of Ellie."

"I'd like to try. Maybe she's more comfortable in lying to your face than she will a stranger."

"Fine. You're the Cop. I'll give you the address." He turned around, his back facing her, and from what she could tell he was scribbling something on a piece of paper he had robbed from one of the cupboards. "Here." he said at length, extending his arm and waiting for her to take the paper. She did and examined it closely as John spoke again. "_You_ shouldn't have any trouble getting in."

"You don't have to have a membership or anything?"

"Of course you do." he said with cockiness. "But it's a different kind of membership."

"Like what?"

"You'll see when you get there. Go during the day and watch your back. It's a shady place."

"I've been in plenty of shady places, John." she told him. He didn't bother to reply as she had expected. Instead, he aimed his troubled eyes at the floor.

"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing his weary expression. He glanced back up at her with a slight look of disruption.

"I'm just tired." He brushed past her, snatching his beer and heading for the table. Angela watched curiously as he sat, and when she saw his disgust and lack of interest in the beverage, she became more concerned.

"Rough day?" she tried again.

"Like any day." he replied.

A bout of silence came between them and Angela was growing anxious. All the time she had spent in her absence she had thought continuously of it, contemplating and hoping that she could say what she longed to say. He said himself on the rooftop that he'd like seeing her around, so why did he seem to have regrets of that now? Or was she just being paranoid? Maybe something else was bothering him, something that didn't concern her at all. There was only one logical way to find out for sure.

"Can I ask you something else before I go?" she questioned, hoping to grip enough bravery to go on with it.

"What?" he asked.

"Well," she paused then as if trying to fix her mixed speech, "actually I need to tell you something. I've been wanting to tell you for a good while now." John saw a reluctant smile dash itself upon her face and her cheeks were almost flaming in the dim light. "John," she paused once more.

Confusing thoughts and mixed emotions raced throughout his entire body like an electric shockwave seeping through his veins. He became panicked at the table and he pounded his fist to halt her.

"Angela," he could see that he had made her jump, "I'm not the kind of man you want to get involved with." He knew he was making her feel humiliated, and he hated it. "I know what you're thinking, what you're hoping." Was it because he felt the same way? "But I walk a different path than you. We aren't as compatible as you think, Angela. A lot of people have died tracing the paths I travel…don't you fall in too." This wasn't spoken bitterly or with any form of scorn or sarcasm. It was spoken with deep sincerity with a form of regret.

Angela wasn't angry, she wasn't resentful; but still she was hurt. The denial was right there in front of her and she hadn't even finished her sentence. It seemed to say, 'Go home Angela, you'll get hurt' as if she were a child trying to follow a trail up a mountain she couldn't climb. Something was about to come up out of her, it was about to tear its way through…it was grief. She had to leave, she had to run home and hide; so she sputtered something to him saying,

"Oh." Then she swallowed and went on, "Well, I'd better go then. My um…my cat is waiting up for me."

_My cat_? Where did that come from? Not that little Duck was anything to be ashamed of, but it sounded cheap and obvious.

"Goodnight John." she managed before racing out. If only she knew that his heart was torn by the same knife.

Constantine didn't sleep that night. He laid up, often resting his face in his hands, clad in his white undershirt and boxers. It was a ravenous sequence of frustration that haunted him all night, like voices in the air laughing at him. He was edgy and shaky and had it not been for the reclaiming of lung cancer, he might have rushed to the drugstore down the street to buy a pack or two. The nicoderm and the arm patches just weren't filling in those empty, desperate cravings like they should.

When morning came, he was quick to discover that he had fallen asleep for about an hour, and he felt like one that had been run over by a truck or dragged behind one at least. A sudden knock greeted him before the alarm clock had the chance. He had planned the previous night to turn that clock off and sleep late, but it had slipped his mind with Angela's arrival - it didn't matter now anyway.

"Just a damn minute!" he barked, rubbing his eyes and having to literally pull himself out of bed. He slipped into his pants and pulled one of his rather expensive shirts on, finishing his buttoning and grabbing his tie as he headed to answer the silent door in a slight daze; but when he saw who stood there in the hall, he was released from his sluggish state. There stood Adam, looking about as weary as John felt. "Adam…" Constantine murmured.

"I did some thinking." the old man said. The more he spoke, the more color rushed to his face and the brighter his grey eyes became. He stood firm and there was a sense that he was quite sure of himself. "I know I've made a lot of mistakes, John. And a lot of what you said was true…but if you were wrong about one thing, that would be the care of my wife. I loved her terribly and still do. Haven't had another woman since her. But I've let liquor take its toll on me time and time again, and I figure that, like you said, I should grab an opportunity when it arises and…I was thinking, hoping perhaps…that maybe God still has some use for this old goat, along with a few others as well…such as yourself."

Adam found pleasure in the small grin that John displayed. A great lightness filled the hall and the warmth of the Sun peering in through the windows of the dwelling were warm now against Constantine's back.

"Will you have me...as your assistant?"

"Yea." John said.

"So," Adam began, "where do we start?"

John's smile grew a little wider.

"How about breakfast? This may be a long day."

"Alright." Adam grinned, a small chuckle pouring out of him. "Breakfast. A big breakfast…and then you can Deputize me." he finished with a quick solute.

**To Be Continued.**


	9. Fighting Your Demons

**Fighting Your Demons**

Saturday would live on in their minds as a day of horrid events. It was a day of lassitude, hot and cold like the fluctuating of a rapidly changing barometer. The scent of pollution lived on in the stifling Los Angeles air, but the hedges on either side of that downtown street were sweet with the multitude of little roses. For Adam's own part, he had been feverishly excited during their walk to the diner - something very similar to the war hungering that occasionally runs through a civilized community had got into his blood, and in his heart he was not very sorry that he may not be returning to his dead end job at the Club tonight. John had given him new reason for meaning.

The diner was a cool atmosphere and a rather comfortable escape from the scorching Sun that beamed against the city. The waitress wasn't friendly, but she minded her own and served them well. The pancakes were nice and fluffy and the eggs were fried to perfection - just the way John liked them - and the coffee appeased Adam well. They had a nice booth at the very back near a great big window where they had the view of busy people flooding the sidewalks and cars and cabs knotted in the street. It was quiet - despite the horn blowing outside - and there were not so many people gathered here. Only a few were seated at the bar, drowned in their own conversations.

During the breakfast, John told Adam of the events that had come to pass; of Mammon and of the traitor Gabriel, of Balthazar and of how it all started with the possession of a little girl and the finding of her sketch of the Spear and of Isabel and Angela Dodson. He explained also of how Mammon was put to an end - and of why John really stopped smoking. It was an odyssey of supernatural reality and it all led up to the more recent events.

After it was all said and done, they both found their plates to be empty and their coffee almost dry. Adam was silent for a little while and he thought before commenting,

"A lot has happened. To think that I had no clue whatsoever that the world nearly ended. To think that a man, who was once my apprentice, came out on top."

John didn't reply to his comment and Adam held his tongue politely, knowing that, much like himself, John never was one for compliments - even when he deserved it - but when you disliked yourself, that's the way it was.

Adam gathered his thoughts again, his mind exploring all that had been said to him like the rewinding of a tape or the re-flipping of a book's pages. When Chas had come up during the story Adam had suddenly felt a deep sense of sorrow for John. He had noticed the way John spoke of the boy, of the regret and guilt that flooded his vocals.

"I'm very sorry to hear about Chas." Adam said. John squeezed the coffee cup tightly with both hands. "I can tell he was quite a young man. I would've liked meeting him." he sighed. "And I'm very sorry about Beeman too…I remember him very well."

"Yea." John managed.

"Do you have an idea of where we should start?"

"I was thinking that we could go to Midnite's, see if he's come up with anything." John suggested, his dark eyes aiming now at the sight of the old man, glowing with a more peaceful perspective.

"Midnite's pretty damn stubborn when it comes to following the rules. He is neutral, you know."

"Tell me about it." John liked Adam agreeing with him on Midnite more than he should. It was rare that Constantine and the renowned Witchdoctor agreed on anything themselves and often John had to convince him with frantic desperation just to get a little cooperation.

The bill was paid by John and Adam left the tip with what money he had left over from the janitor work. They left that more lively side of town and ended back up on the desolate streets where gangs, witches, drug pushers and Half-Breeds often mingled.

"John, if someone's plotting revenge against you, why do you think they would, going by what the psychic girl told you?"

"Don't know." said John, flipping a freshly opened nicoderm gum piece into his mouth. "Unless it has something to do with," His sentence was cut short by the ringing of his cell and he pulled it from his back pocket immediately.

"_Constantine_…" a shattered voice rumbled unsteadily on the other end.

Adam stood and listened as John spoke over the cell. They were standing before a fairly vast basketball court where a few teenagers played behind the chain length fence. Across from them was a row of old brick townhouses. Some of them were so dark and un-lively until Adam wondered if they were deserted.

"Who is this?" John went on.

"_Sean_."

"Sean? What the hell are _you_ calling me up for?"

"_Look man, it's Nigel_."

"What about him?"

"_I think he's possessed, that's what_!"

"What?!"

"_POSSESSED! NIGEL IS POSSESSED_!" the man on the other end reiterated.

"How about not deafening me while you're at it?" John spat.

"_Look John, just get the fuck over here, please! It's serious_!"

"Alright. I'm on my way." John closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"What was that all about?" Adam asked curiously.

"Sean Henderson. His friend Nigel is apparently possessed. He's begging me to get over there a.s.a.p."

"Then let's go!"

"We'll have to catch a cab. It's a good drive from here."

The two men quickened their pace, heeding to the possibilities of an actual Demon possessing a victim.

"Looks like Midnite may find the scales tipped after all." John mouthed. "Unless Nigel's just hyped up on drugs again. If that's the case, I'm gonna whip both their asses, Sean and Nigel that is."

"John, we're empty of any tools. Shouldn't we go back to your place and grab your's?"

"No need. I've got a bible handy and a crucifix." John padded his coat pocket. "I seldom leave anywhere without them these days…especially after what I found out about the murder."

"Oh," Adam arched his brows, his forehead wrinkling with bewilderment, "that's being resourceful."

†††

Their arrival was in forty minutes according to John's wrist watch and they stepped out quickly after paying the cabby, seeing before them a tall brick building, aged and filthy like most flats you see in L.A.'s backstreets. There was an angry Rottweiler barking madly behind a chain length fence that neared the flat from one old townhouse and a group of loud-mouthed bad boys, a mix of Caucasians, Porte Ricans and African Americans, grouped around an old Chevy, talking dirty and puffing their drags.

Inside the apartment flat was what one would see in most any old building, a small lobby that greeted one from the door and sitting in there was a black woman stout and bitter looking with sweat beading her forehead, cradling a screaming baby in one arm and complaining on her cell in the other. She acknowledged them with little-to-no thought as they passed through.

John and Adam climbed the stairs, having to briefly dodge a bouncing basketball and a small group of children who came clattering down like wild Chimpanzees. The walls were stained with God-knows-what and the air was stiff and airless with a foul odor that seeped throughout from the vents.

"Is this the place?" Adam asked, fanning himself. He knew he hadn't been the most pleasant smell of late, but for a dwelling this was ridiculous.

"Yep." John replied, sounding unenthused - though his mind was troubled.

"I hope it turns out to be nothing. I can hardly breath in this bloody place."

After two more flights of stairs they came to stand in a dirty corridor. It was so unkempt until the ceiling looked rotted and one door was half hanging on its hinges. It was loud and people could be heard through the walls. Crying babies, squeaky little dogs, people yelling in Spanish - it was maddening.

"This friend of your's poor by any chance?"

"He's lazy, cheap ... and he's lazy…" John replied.

The door they came to was numbered 158 and as they stood there, a sudden draft swept around them. It grew cold as John pounded the door and he shot Adam a cautious glance. With the rest of the place being as hot as it was, this coldness before Sean's door was something to consider, unless he was the only one who owned an air conditioner.

When the door was answered by a stout youth who wore an earring in his left ear and had a goatee and shaved head, everything became an almost déjà vu, a reiteration of previous events. The boy, about twenty six or so, was as pale as a corpse and his entire body - thick as it was - shook like a wet leaf. His dark eyes were highlighted with tainted fear and his overall state sent a chill to both John and Adam's hearts. The young man was battered not only by fear, but by scars and claw marks about his throat and arms. Across his cheek was a nasty little red mark where something had tried to scratch him.

"J-John," he stammered, "thank God you're here."

"Where's Nigel?" John asked, stepping past him and breathing the tight air through his nostrils.

"In," Sean swallowed, "he's in there." He pointed toward a bedroom on the far left - his shaking finger darting right before John's face, who rendered it - Nigel's room by remembrance. The two roomies had lived like this for six moths now…

Those who have never seen a Demon can scarcely imagine the horror of its appearance. Long talons accenting its long narrow feet, claws pouring out of its fingertips and fangs brightening its gaping jaws. The absence of brow ridges, un-human flesh, and an almost extraterrestrial aura.

Whilst Adam stood before the doorway looking on to the young man bound to his bed, a kind of terrified fascination paralyzed his actions for an instant - a few seconds maybe. John was beside him, looking on with dread, an ungovernable terror had gripped him as well. He stood petrified and staring, fearful of what was waiting before him…they were back.

Nigel was a skinny youth - quite the opposite of Sean - always pale and half out of himself from the drugs he considered the closest thing to a lover; but as John looked on to him now, the young man looked like one eat up with cancer. His skin was sheepishly white-blue revealing little red spider veins that were more visible than normal and his usual blond hair was dampened with sweat and his eyes were wild but tired. Each wrist and ankle was strapped to a bedpost with a firm leather belt and the sheets beneath him were uneven, boasting tears from claw marks around some of the edges where he'd put up an awful fight. He seemed temporarily unaware that anyone was rendering him, that anyone was there, and he bellowed soft little snarls that were not humanistic whatsoever.

"Adam, get the curtains." John said. "Take these."

Adam caught the little chain of symbolic metal - the chain of effigies of the nine Saints that conquered the nine Demons known to swarm Hell - knowing right away what to do with them. When he pulled the curtains back, the beam of light that pierced through sent Nigel into a violent roar and Adam glanced him, his hand holding the symbols to the light rays. There was a queasy strike of fear and angst that rushed to his heart - a reminder of his old days back when he was the Exorcist who witnessed such horrors that were thrown upon innocence.

John had clattered on top of Nigel who spat Hell-Speak at him and tried to lunge twice. They weren't pretty words, and John gave Nigel (or rather, the Demon) a bitter sneer of injustice.

"Hello asshole." Constantine uttered, reaching into his coat for the small hand-bible. His bent knees were on either side of Nigel's waist and there was a combination of hot and cold that stuffed the air. Sean stood in the doorway listening, and he nearly wet himself when the following rolled off of Nigel's wretched tongue,

"_Bastardus_!" he growled, a thick white saliva dripping from his mouth.

"Same to ya." John retorted, flipping through the pages of his bible. "Anyone happen to have any Holy Water handy?"

"I'm afraid not." Adam said, his eyes aiming at Sean who caught on quickly.

"N - no." Sean sputtered weakly.

"Shame. I guess we'll just have to work with what we've got. Adam, bring those over here."

Adam quickly gave the effigies to him and Constantine, without hesitation, forced them against the victim's forehead. From there, the expected presented itself: the burning, the eyes rolling back into the head, the beastly squeals. The Demon forced the body into a series of vibrations - the jolting beneath John was a frantic illustration of Hell-Tantrum. Then suddenly, it went limp.

"Oh shit!" Sean let out, clutching his head, a bout of panic preparing to shoot out of him.

"Hold it!" Adam told him. "Give it a minute."

Constantine carefully pressed his left ear against the young man's chest, listening for a heart beat. It was there, the faint little pulse, and now he was hoping for the sound of breathing.

Then it broke out again, the little Demon, pissed and raged, it was still wanting more fight. It didn't want John to win - they never did - and Balthazar himself said: _Go! Go and flood this city with your malice! Find those of which have a connection with Constantine in whatever way if possible! _The possibility had been found, at least as far as this Scavenger was concerned; and when Nigel's head flung upward, John lost grip of the chain of effigies in the excitement of it all - but Adam was there to collect them from the floor and John needed them no longer anyhow. Now the crucifix and the bible were next. It was time to put them both to work. The exorcism carried on and the Demon wailed so loudly by the touch of the tool until neighbors, concerned and full of wonderment lined the hallway outside the door.

"I exorcise thee," John began, "every unclean spirit, in the name of God the Father Almighty, and in the name of Jesus Christ, His Son, our Lord and Judge, and in the power of the Holy Spirit-"

"_Constantine_," the Demon hissed, arguing its way in with words, one might say, "_Lucifer clamare_…" it coughed, "_Lucifer will claim you_!"

John halted, furrowed brows wrinkling over his still eyes. Adam too, was intent and listening.

"_You belong to Lucifer Morning Star_." it went on. "_Your soul belongs to him_." This message it meant to get across, maybe so everyone could hear apparently. It wasn't everyday a Demon like this dropped their little Hell-Speak or ancient Latin to give a message.

John was soiled with leery suspicions and he was robbed of any form of temerity he might have brought with him. Then the flashback played out in his mind just for a minute or less, and time stood still, that Demon boasting a sneering grin full of bold pleasure behind the wall that was Nigel's gangly face…

When the gates had been opened, and Constantine had been accepted into God's good graces for his selfless last request to free Isabel's soul, Lucifer, scorned and bitter at this, grabbed him and said,

"_No. You will live, John Constantine_," His voice was tainted in an uproar of determination, his cold hands ripping Constantine's shirt open. "_You will live_." He pushed his hands into John's skin and it tore and burn and made Constantine cold all at once, sending him into writhing pain. "_So you will have_," Lucifer had went on in his wrathfulness, lifting John literally off his feet, "_the chance to prove that your soul truly belongs in Hell_." Lucifer dropped him then, and John seemed to spill to the floor like a stone. The Devil's hands were dipped with black-tar; the cancer pulled so spitefully from Constantine's lungs. "_Oh, you will live_…_you will live_."

The flashback came to an abrupt ending and something stung John like the tip of a rusty blade, like stepping on a nail, like waking up to death, like losing your assets. This was it, this was what was going on. Now he knew, now he remembered. Lucifer was back. It was him, it was the Prince of Hell, the fallen Archangel. He meant what he said. Of course he did. How could John let it slip his mind; all that Satan had said to him? He couldn't dwell on it any longer. He had an exorcism to complete and a life to save. The brief moment was over. He went on chanting,

"I exorcise thee, every unclean spirit, in the name of God the Father Almighty, and in the name of Jesus Christ, his son, our Lord and Judge, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, that thou depart from this Creature of God, Nigel Andrews, which our Lord hath designed to call unto his Holy Temple," As John spoke, the Demon lurched and broke into a series of untamable jolts and screams, screams that were ear piercing, heart squeezing. "…that it may be made the temple of the living God, and that the Holy Spirit may dwell therein. Through the same Christ our Lord, who shall come to judge the living and the dead, and the world by fire. Amen." Then he added his own little quote, "Have a nice trip, asshole."

A final series of momentary body writhed jolts and Nigel's nerves collapsed in his bounds and the room fell silent. With each passing second, the room was lifted and the air freed of the darkness that had coiled about it. The young man, laying still beneath John grew a healthy pigmentation and his eyes opened at last, his mouth gasping for the air he was stolen of. Adam opened the window then, letting fresh air and light fill the room with summer warmth. It was over, for Nigel at least, but Constantine was hurting with the pains of an old promise.

John and Adam pressed out of the bedroom, stepping over dirty clothes heaps and empty liquor bottles on the way into the living area where Ruby, Sean's Electus Parrot, squealed and squawked, chanting curse words taught to her by the mischievous Nigel.

"_Hey shit face_!" the little bird chanted merrily, excited by the daunt that was gone. "_Hey shit face_!_ Son of bitch_!"

John and Adam heeded not to Ruby and they sat still and withered upon the sofa. Sean was still standing in the doorway of his roommate's bedroom, partly shocked and partly glad. Nigel lifted his head then, looking at his friend with slight annoyance.

"Hey man, aren't ya gonna untie me here?"

"Uh…Oh, right." Sean slowly stepped towards Nigel, often glancing him with a small suspicion that still dwelled.

"I'm me again." Nigel reminded him and Sean nodded. The two young men staggered into the living area, each of them sitting opposite Adam and John whose faces were accented in the light of dread.

"What the hell was that back there?" asked Nigel, shaking terribly as he prepared a cigarette for lighting. He offered the carton towards Adam, who sat beside him, his hands trembling like the tail of a Rattlesnake. Adam took a cigarette eagerly and Nigel lit it as it sat between his lips.

"A Demon." John uttered, his eyes trained on the wall across from them. "What the hell did you think it was?"

"I was hoping for the Tooth Fairy." Nigel replied, but it was spoken without sarcasm.

"I wonder what that thing meant." Adam said. "I wonder what it meant when it told you what it did."

"I know perfectly well what it meant." said John. "It was letting me know that Lu's keeping his promise."

"Promise for what, man?" Sean asked, sitting beside Constantine.

"He didn't take out the cancer as a token of thanks." John said with slight cold mannerism. "He did it so I would live. So I would have the chance to prove that I truly belong in Hell."

"He's wanted your soul since you were a kid. I guess it's only natural for him to be cooking up some way to take back what he thinks is his." Sean commented.

"Right." John uttered.

"Cigarette?" Nigel offered it to Constantine, his arm stretched over Adam.

"I quit dumb ass."

"That Demon wanted to get a message across and it did." Adam said.

"Wasn't a very powerful one." said John. "Lucky for us."

"Didn't need to be, I guess." said Adam. "What if there's more of them? What if you start getting more calls … calls from frightened people?"

"We'll have to roll up our sleeves and get ready for a little dirty work."

"Wait," said Sean, a sudden burst of hope flaming within him, "it's simple. Just don't sin. He can't take you down unless you sin, so just become divine."

John shook his head, wanting to laugh at how stupid that sounded. It wasn't like anyone such as him should bother becoming divine now. What a load of bull.

"Even if I did," Constantine began, "it's apparent that Lucifer's minions are here to make sure I _do _sin."

"Shit." Sean sighed. "Shit."

"Yea, shit. Do you know just how stupid of a suggestion that was?"

"I'm just trying to help, man."

"If you can't make any adult suggestions, then don't bother." John snarled.

"_Shit_!" Ruby squawked, her red feathers ruffled as she shifted about on her perch. "_Shit_!" The little bird, mid-sized in her mass, spread her wings, her feathers like fur, and fluttered to Sean's shoulder where she made herself comfortable. He stroked her then, with a million things racing through his head it seemed. He was not only glad that John had saved Nigel, he was glad he was here in general because he had much to inform him of.

**To Be Continued.**


	10. Gabriel, Or Rather, Gabrielle

**Gabriel, Or Rather, Gabrielle**

The silence between the four men carried on for some time. The people who had gathered out in the hallway had decided the wails and screeching to be nothing of their business - most of the residents here were too sorry to care anyhow - and had returned to their own apartments.

Sean Henderson was an anxious young man. He had attended a Christian Community College, but had lost his scholarship a month after beginning his first semester - being involved with people like Nigel didn't help. He had taken a job in an underground artifact shop afterwards, one of which Midnite often did trades and pawns with. His older sister was the only relative who'd gladly be put up with him - he had grown bitterly distant from his parents.

He was a thick built male, being no more than 5'7" in height and weighing more than 202 in pounds. He wasn't as fond of drugs as his friend but he obviously ate well - mainly when his stomach was nervous - and he was intensely craving something to consume right about now, his weary feet drumming the floor beneath him. You might say that food was Sean's addiction.

The den of that apartment was stuffy and cramped with Sean and Nigel's junk tossed and thrown all over the place. The small coffee table was cluttered with comics, dirty magazines and empty cigarette cartons - not to mention that wonderful collection of liquor bottles that had Nigel's saliva all over the drinking rims.

Adam, like John, was in deep thought, trying his best to put the puzzle together with what few little clues they had - which were none whatsoever.

During his contemplation of agonized deciphering John's eyes were aimed on the floor whilst he rested his arms over his knees, his coat removed and his sleeves rolled up, partially revealing the tattoo markings he boasted. When Sean stood up from the couch and began tracing the room and rummaging through the coffee table, Constantine tuned in to what he was doing.

"What are you looking for?" he asked Sean.

"A paper. An older one." the stout youth replied. He plundered through a small shelf and at brisk length he retrieved something - a newspaper of some sort.

"The L.A. Times?" John questioned, slowly taking the paper from Sean's hand.

"Read it." Sean suggested, sticking his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans - a nervous tick of his.

"Alright." Constantine sighed as he flipped the paper open. As he read, Adam peered over his shoulder scanning the paper as well. "This is about the events at Ravenscar…about them finding Chas Kramer's body and the body of the Hispanic - the bearer of the Spear."

During this time, Nigel was zoned out on the edge of the sofa opposite Adam. It made no difference though, as he was no use to anyone much no how.

"Yea," said Sean, "but keep reading." His shaky finger came pouring over the paper, sliding down and pointing at a paragraph at the bottom.

"Weary civilian was found laying near the pool in the therapy room, grieving and hysterically disordered within herself. She went by _Gabrielle _but because no one was able to trace any information on her, they booked her in Ravenscar the following day to reside as a patient for the time being." John read. "Gabrielle." He muttered the name bitterly. "So becoming human wasn't enough to bring the asshole to committing suicide. F****** monster. She ought to be behind f****** bars right now, rotting away, not laying up in an Asylum. Damn f****** murderer." he spat, crumpling the newspaper up violently. It was also apparent now that God had cast the Archangel into a female body, thus Gabriel became Gabrielle.

"I know you very seldom read the paper John, so I wanted to show you that while you were around." Sean said.

"Why didn't you give it to me earlier?"

"Look man, you're all over the place. Besides, it slipped my mind. I got a life." Sean stuttered, lamely conjuring up excuses for himself.

"Yea. I noticed." John's eyes glanced the empty bottles strung about the floor. It didn't matter much anyhow if he was late in giving him the paper since these new events were only just beginning.

"Hey, it's not mine! It's all Nigel's shit. You know I'm not big on drugs. The most I can stomach is a cold beer every now and then."

John shot up from his seat on the couch, pressing the newspaper against Sean's chest as he headed for the door, stepping over this and that as he moved. The young man held the paper firmly in his hands, watching John's every step.

"Where you going?" Sean asked.

As the question rung through John's ears, he stopped briefly and looked back upon the two alert weary faces. Trepidation seemed to halt him as he thought on his next move before saying,

"I'm going to try and get to the bottom of this shit. If Gabrielle's still alive, he- I mean, she may have a few answers about what happened to the Nurse that was murdered."

"What if you don't get anything out of him-her?" Sean asked.

"I'll beat it out of her." John said.

Adam stood then and hastened to the door of which John had already stepped out of. As he did, Sean began glancing at Nigel and then towards Rudy - both of which were sleeping heavily - then he spotted John's coat tossed over the sofa, and it wasn't long before he rushed after Pool and Constantine - after grabbing John's coat of course.

"Hey wait!" his voice echoed in the hallway. "Hey John, wait up! You forgot your coat!"

John wasn't stopping, his feet were carrying him quickly down several flights of stairs; but Adam paused long enough for Sean to catch up to him at least and the young man gave him a weak half-grin before introducing himself.

"I'm Sean Henderson." he said, offering for the old Bloke to shake his hand.

"Adam Pool. Ancient friend of John Constantine." He spoke it with a combination of delight and misfortune.

"Wasn't he your apprentice once?"

"That would be true, my friend. Now I'm somewhat playing the role of an apprentice myself…I feel about as damn confused as one." Adam glanced his way then and said, "Got a cigarette on you?"

"Uh, no but…there's a drugstore right around the corner."

"I doubt John will be willing to make any pit stops now." Adam sighed.

†††

Ravenscar was its usual asylum gloom. There was the screaming and pleading of a hysterical woman in the hall who was being escorted by a clamor of nurses who tried unsuccessfully to quiet her. Then there was a gurney being pushed through a door with about three paramedics pacing in silent swiftness - a young boy laid out and hooked to an oxygen machine was moribound upon it. The image brought back some pretty horrible memories to John who eagerly looked away.

"Can I help you?" asked the receptionist sitting at the computer in the lobby room. Her voice brought the tall dark haired man back to the reason for which he had come.

"Yea," John swallowed, "I need to pay a visit to the lady who goes only by Gabrielle."

The receptionist arched her brow at him in utter confusion.

"The Gabrielle that was supposedly found on the night of May 17th." Constantine added, his eyes aiming anywhere but upon her as he squeezed his hands into his pants pockets, shifting his coat away from his hips as he did.

"Oh," her voice was low-pitched and she took a moment to think. "Oh!" she beamed at last. "_That_ Gabrielle! I'll have to have your name first."

"John Constantine. I was a patient here myself. Dr. Leslie Archer oversaw me."

In that brief moment while John stood waiting for the woman to grant his request and Adam and Sean stood attentively over his shoulder, another nurse slid over the desk and eyed John with a cold, almost suspicious glare.

"I'm sorry Mr. Constantine, but the patient you're requesting to see has specifically requested not to see _you_. In fact, she's requested that you are not allowed anywhere near her room." said the other nurse.

"Shit!" John spat. The two women frowned. "Pardon the French." he said before turning around and looking back upon the two men who had followed him here, both of them painted of exhaustion.

"Now what?" Adam asked, sighing deeply.

"I don't know." John sneered. "Come on." he said, pushing his way between them almost rudely - his attempt to get them to follow.

He had a vague idea of going back home. It was about as much motive as he had at the moment. Nothing seemed to be going smoothly and if a mental patient requested not to see someone in particular, there wasn't much you could do about it. And unless you were of relation to a patient, there wasn't much hope in getting in to see them period.

"Wait." Sean began. "What if I act like I'm a relative who's come forward to claim her?"

"Sean, get real." John retorted, pausing from his pacing of the sidewalk that bordered the outside of the place. "They'll have to run a background check, and if Gabrielle stakes you as a stranger, that's all it'll take; unless you miraculously figure a way to fake identity and find a loophole that states you are her relative. Otherwise, forget it. It's not happening."

"John, we need to get in there and talk to the bitch." Adam said, feeling almost guilty for even calling an Archangel such a name.

"I know that!" Constantine snapped. "But how are we gonna do it, huh? Any bright ideas? Because I'm dry of any at the moment."

"I may have one." Adam coughed up. "I don't know if it can be labeled as bright, but perhaps it'll get us where we want to be."

"What?"

"Yea, what Adam?" Sean asked, trying to put his two cents worth in - something he had a neck for doing in an attempt to justify his reason for hanging around.

"We'll," Adam slipped on his words, trying hard not to laugh at his own suggestion, "we could very well get in through a window. But we don't know what room she's staying in; unless of course we can get it out of someone who knows."

"The only ones who know are the people in charge of caring for her; and they damned aren't gonna tell us." John said.

"I know, I know. I just wish we knew someone … someone who could get us in." the old man said, rubbing his stubbly chin.

"Wait a minute." Constantine seized the moment, his eyes brightening beneath his weary facial form.

"What?" asked Adam.

"Angela. She's a Cop. If anyone can get us in, you and I, it'll be her."

"What about me?" asked Sean.

"What about you?" Constantine snorted rudely.

"I don't know. You said you and me to Adam, what about _me_?"

"Nothing. You can wait outside for my part…or go home if you want my preference."

"Nice. You stopped smoking but you're the same old asshole you've always been." Sean threw back casually.

"Don't like it, lump it. I don't have time for whining. Now, I need to get a hold of Angela. Hang on while I dial her number."

"You have a chick's number?" Sean snickered. "How'd you score a Cop?"

"F*** off, Sean." Was all John had to say about it as he pressed the cell against his ear and turned his back to his friends.

**To Be Continued.**


	11. Exerpts From Angela's Journal

**Excerpts From Angela's Journal**

Dear Journal,

I can see that this is the first writing I've done in this book in about a month - I'm a bit ashamed of that. I think that more than anything I'm writing in here because I need someone (or something) to confide in. Duck is literally the only one who listens to me (take into consideration that he is my cat) and, well, he appears a bit bored at the moment.

Last night was the night of my arrival home. I felt the need for a long vacation after all that had happened with Isabel so I traveled. After I picked Duck up at the kennel however, I discovered a message on the answering machine - It was Weiss. To make a long story short, a Nurse was murdered at Ravenscar - by something untraceable. To add to the suspense of the night I was quick to discover John was there with a friend of his. He too (I'm assuming with his friend's help) knew about the murder and suspected it to be someone who goes by Ellie (after a Doctor slipped up and told him about a woman who had turned herself in at the asylum).

John left in a haste after discovering this and so I decided to wait up for him literally at his doorstep in hopes that I too would get to the bottom of it all. When he got home, he informed me that this Ellie didn't really give him anything to lean on much for a possible clue. According to what John said, she was as scared as anyone and fled after she heard a scream. I want to take her down to headquarters for further questioning as soon as I can anyway.

Now, about my confiding that I mentioned earlier. I think I did something really stupid last night before leaving John's place. I don't know what happened for sure, but it just slipped out of me. I guess I've never been good at holding things in for too long. I had to tell him, I wanted to; but to be blunt, John wouldn't give me the chance. It's like he wants to push me away now - he let me know that he doesn't want me falling in that same hole that everyone he's ever known has ended up in. It's frustrating, and if I had the sense I have as of right now I might have given him a piece of my mind (and who knows? I may yet). Surprisingly though, he wasn't cruel about it. It's like he just wants to keep me away, like he's afraid of getting too attached. It's so difficult to understand where he's coming from sometimes because he's so bad about leading one around in the dark and keeping everything bottled up to himself. I wish there was some way to make him realize that I'm not another damsel in distress that he has to constantly protect and feel responsible for. I just wish I knew how to reason with him better. It's hard because I can't get inside of his mind.

I really wanted more than anything to tell him how I feel. Somehow, in all that we've been through, John's really grown on me. I know he's not the biggest gentleman, and he's certainly not a shoulder to lean on type, but he's different and I'm just naturally drawn to him. Maybe that's foolish, maybe irresponsible for a cop such as myself - but I can't deny what's there. And the longer the distance between us remains, the more I want to go to him and say what's running through my mind.

I left abruptly after he sent me off in his own little fashion. I felt so awkward running down those halls and out to the SUV. I had all of these mixed emotions that were driving me mad - and maybe to tears. I remember thinking on the way home of how badly I wished Isabel was still alive, that she could be well and like she used to be on those good days. Then as I got to thinking more of her, John sort of faded a bit and I began feeling guilty all over again - guilty for leaving her in that place only to get hurt. I should have stood up and fought for her. I should have been there instead of trying to forget. I was such a hypocrite. But I guess sometimes life has its reasons for turning out the way it does - even if the way it turns out is the exact way we don't want it to. It just hurts so bad to think of her. I haven't even had the courage to pick up the photo album yet. I'm surprised I can even stand to look at Duck sometimes, knowing that he was something that Isabel treasured.

I really feel foolish. I really dread John, I dread looking at him or even talking to him, but I need to. I need him to help me solve this crime. Putting aside my emotional stresses, I know that something's going on. I felt it when I got back from my trip. Something's not right with the world, with L.A. and I'm worried. I'm very worried.

I'll close for now. My cell is ringing.

~ Angela

**To Be Continued.**


	12. Dealings With Demons

**Dealings With Demons**

The Club was typically quiet during the daylight hours of the week. There was a boring silence that laced the place, making it look empty and closed. It was absent of the activity that brought on the liveliness of the night and the chairs that rounded the tables about the dance floor were resting atop their surfaces.

The bar was still open, but only two Half-Breeds and an occultist lingered there talking quietly amongst themselves. Midnite was gone - perhaps doing business somewhere - and the Bartender was a different one who worked the dayshift; and Ellie was stuck sweeping the floors.

There was one table beside her where a chair had been taken off of it and a deck of cards had been abandoned beside a half empty wine glass on the surface. Ellie sighed with much annoyance at this, resenting her job and cursing Balthazar for making her beg for it; but before her hands could retrieve the wine glass, a cold gust rushed past her, blowing the cards all over the floor and scattering them about her feet.

"DAMN!" she hissed. "What the hell was that?"

As she bent forward, another queer thing happened; a hot breath began to speak words tainted in a British accent into her ear - the cold presence sent a swift shiver throughout the room. It spoke to her with cool confidence, but there was something in those male vocals that revealed a nerve-racking insecurity.

"Ellie," he spoke, "Ellie I need to see you outside."

"Balthazar," But as she turned around to peer at him, she saw that he was nowhere, yet he was there - she could feel his cold hands pricking her upper arm like little needle tips. "Bal-"

"Just meet me outside. Keep walking westward. You'll see me."

"But I-"

"Now."

That cold gulf of wind rushed on past her towards the exit. The Bouncer jumped slightly and looked around with a minor form of suspicion before returning to the playing with his cell phone, which he deemed more amusing than the lingering upon a suspicious occurrence.

Ellie found herself bound by trepidation, feeling both compelled to finish her work and do as Balthazar ordered her to do all the while. Her tired eyes looked towards the bar and after seeing as how no one paid any mind to her she inhaled and leaned the broom against one of the columns of shiny glass tiles before making her way out the exit herself.

The road was rather quiet outside, being a small one as it was. There were a few cars parked lining the sidewalks and a homeless man zoomed by slowly on his bike - his eyes flaming green.

Ellie began to walk onward just as Balthazar had told her and not long after he came merging out from a small corner road, finding his place at her side in an instant - he was once again visible and whole.

"What's the scoop?" she asked, unpleased.

"I'll tell you what." he hissed. "The Dodson woman is going to be taking you down to the L.A.P.D. to interrogate you about the murder in Ravenscar. She'll be coming down to the Club soon."

"What? How do you know this?" she asked as they walked onward.

"I was at the Bowling Alley last night." he said, straightening his tie nervously and looking at the road ahead. "I was sitting there in the lobby, keeping my eyes open and waiting for Constantine to show up. Instead, I caught glimpse of the Dodson twin trailing up to his flat. I waited patiently, and when he came at last I followed. I managed to hear the two of them carrying on in conversation while standing beside his door. He told her all about his little intervention with you in Midnite's office, saying he didn't get far. And now she wants to take you in for questioning herself."

"So what do I do?" Ellie asked, trying to disguise the shakiness in her voice. "I've never been interrogated by a cop."

"You'll play along with her the same way you did with Johnny Boy."

"Come on Bal, it's so much easier with John. All I have to do with him is dress like a tramp, distract him a bit, but her…"

"It'll be easy with her as well."

"She's a _cop_. She's a _pro-fes-sional_." Ellie retorted slowly.

"And you're a professional at deceiving." Balthazar reminded her.

"I may disappoint you." she said with an honest spitefulness.

"If you do Ellie, I may have to punish you…and I would hate to be forced to punish such a," he licked his lips, gliding his finger against her cheek, "beautiful little serpent."

Ellie trembled at his touch. It felt frightfully warm against her face, but she pulled away abruptly, not wanting to give him the pleasure of thinking that she found him a comfort to be around.

"Why can't I just forget this stupid job you've assigned me to take and go home? I'll get much further just spying on them…if spying is what you want."

"That's my job." Balthazar spat the words in her ear.

"Then what's mine, huh? Because you haven't really cleared that up with me yet."

"You know, Ellie. You know."

"I don't know!" she snarled at him like an angry wolverine, stopping in her tracks and ending their little stroll. "Why do I have to be kept in the dark? What the hell are you trying to achieve here, huh?"

"Ellie," Balthazar began to rekindle his more sympathetic tone with her, brushing one of the loose strands of her brown hair away from her lovely face, "I can't afford to risk your safety, your vulnerability."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she demanded, keeping her voice low.

Balthazar's flaming eyes rendered the street way, ensuring that no prying eyes or listening ears could hear or see them. He went on,

"I know how very clever you are, but if I were to put you in my place right now, I could very well be risking your freedom in this world. It's a great burden, Ellie, and to put such a burden upon you right now could be overwhelming. To lead you around is safer for your part. Please try to understand. John already suspects you. If he catches you by yourself, you may be deported."

"Are you trying to sweet-talk me into shutting up?"

"Of course not." he said. He leant forward then, pulling all of her hair back away from her ear as he whispered into it, "Ellie, I need you to trust me. I have big plans for you, they just haven't been," he paused demurely, "completely revealed yet. Stay here and play the fools like you've beendoing. The less they know, the further we'll get…you and I." As he pulled away, he gave her a grin of vengeance.

"Constantine can't deport me. If he did, he'd be tipping the balance. That's breaking the rules." she argued.

"Not necessarily with you, Ellie. Aren't you forgetting that he still owes you a demise? You turned on him and he let you live. If he kills _you_, he'll just be finishing a job he's forgotten."

"Very well then." she said, her lips tipping upward in approval.

"Good. And just remember; if it gets too hot in there, you have the right to walk out. They can't do anything about it without evidence that points to you personally." he told her as he bestowed a brief kiss upon her forehead.

It stung her skin, that kiss of his, and it sent a shockwave of fear throughout her veins; yet somehow she rather liked it. He plunged back into the alley then and left her alone.

Ellie was mindful in all that they had spoke in words between each other, not to mention these strange feelings he had left her to dwell on. She despised him terribly and resented him bitterly, but now all that rage was fading into some other emotion she couldn't quite name.

She absentmindedly stroked her hair behind her ears again, still thinking of him. He was alluring, attractive - anything you could concoct with a fantasy born from a female mind - yet to stand next to him would send a chill to your heart, making it sweat and beat rapidly as if you stood beside a beast - and to stand by Balthazar _was_to stand beside a monster. That was what he was; or was it? Ellie was beginning to challenge her own perspective of him.

†††

Balthazar stepped briskly down the backstreet where charity cases dwelled and where children looked upon him with startled faces. His presence was malice, an agonizing domination that lurked seemingly in every shadow that cornered Constantine's world. And yet, despite his demonic qualities, he could be so charming, and to the typical mortal eye he could so easily come off as a dream - even Ellie (a Half-Breed herself) was becoming drowned in this.

Balthazar thought everyone and everything around him a futile, meaningless existence. Any creature who ever loved or cared for another would never comprehend the mind and emotional feelings of this Demon. He was cold and ruthless, taking any life that stood between him and whatever goal - just like he took Beeman's life.

Turning a corner and shadowing his way down a long road of silence, he was eventually greeted by a crowded downtown street way where cars were jam-packed and where citizens clamored about the sidewalks, talking on their cells and just going about their daily routines in general. To see this brought a sneering frown upon Balthazar's face.

_They're like ants_, he thought, _like filthy, annoying little ants that sting you in the sides. How pathetic, these children of God as they so egotistically think themselves to be. None of them are worth anything, save being more for the Scavengers to feast upon in Hell for all eternity…which is where their damned souls belong._

When the light looming over the street flickered into red, the cars halted and the civilians passed through the street to the other side - Balthazar blending in along with them. He had somewhere to be and once his feet reached the other side, he began to pace quickly, striding along in great steps and stopping for no one.

"Would you like to buy some flowers?" a friendly Mexican woman kept asking each passerby. When Balthazar passed her, she asked once more, "Would you like to buy some flowers?" But once the Half-Breed was some feet down from where she stood beside her brightly colored flower cart, she became hysterical and disarrayed at the sight of every plant wilting so quickly without any substantial scientific reason. Other people who had taken notice of the drooping, shriveling plants became concerned also.

At the end of a couple of blocks, Balthazar boomed through the sliding doors of a rather modernistic skyscraper where the atmosphere was clean and the air was breathed comfortably through his nose. As he stood in the grand lobby where a chandelier of glistening crystal hung over the room's center, he could hear the echoing steps of high heeled shoes clamping towards him against the marble floor.

He stood staring in provocative fascination at the sight of an attractive Half-Breed female clad in a business suit with a clipboard held firm against her side. She was at least as beautiful as Ellie with her big eyes decorated by the square black rimmed spectacles she wore, and her blond hair pinned up in a tight bun. Her lips were painted with fresh blood.

"They're waiting for you in the meeting room." she said to him, her voice demurely seductive.

"Thank you." Balthazar spoke to her in the same seductive volume, smelling the sweet scent of perfume as he brushed past the Demoness.

"You've been absent for some time." she added. "It's good to have you back, sir."

Balthazar grinned deviously her way, knowing that her voice was tainted by knowledge that they all kept secret amongst themselves.

He stepped quite gracefully into the elevator, pressing the buttons that would take him to the fifteenth floor - the same conference room where John had deported him to begin with - and he would soon be speaking in business terms with two gentlemen he had been anticipating on meeting with.

As the elevator began to move upward, Balthazar clutched his knuckles, glancing them solemnly as he thought, subconsciously missing the pleasant calming that the rolling of his coin often brought - he had lost it during the murder of poor Beeman.

It was nice to have all that he had. Lucifer looked out for his own quite well, one might state - and that fact was true. Here Balthazar was; a successful C.E.O. of a company - using this as a sheet to cloak himself with in an attempt to hide what he really was; a servant of Hell.

Now, standing firm before the large doors that closed the conference room off from the corridor, he could faintly feel the pulse of a human being's heart beating fairly rapidly in the form of one who was drenched in anxiety. And after opening the door, his cold eyes cast upon a man (not even half as well dressed as he) sitting partially sideways upon a chair and drumming his fingers atop the surface of the long table.

Everything here was clean and in its place, and the damages caused by Constantine had been cleaned up quite a good while back.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting." Balthazar said, rounding the table and finding his place near the far back wall, his hands folded behind his back.

"It's fine, it's fine." said the weary gentleman. He was a tall fellow, slim yet thick in build. He was wearing a leather jacket and tattered jeans and his middle-aged face was accented by unruly stubble. His dark brown hair was short with a slight curl at the tips, and in the light of the room one could easily see the thin layers of grey that gave him age.

"Tell me Elijah, where is your friend Walter? I was told that _two_ gentlemen were waiting for me, not one."

"He went to the restroom. Said he'd be back in a minute." Elijah said gruffly. Every reply he gave sounded like a gangster trying to cover up for himself - but he couldn't help it.

"Then we'll wait silently until he returns."

"Fine by me."

"I'm not seeking your approval." Balthazar sneered.

Elijah Varner was a man who ran a small Occult clan, he was the head honcho second to Walter who was by far the decision maker and a legend in the practices of the Dark Arts. Neither of the men were Half-Breeds but rather mere human beings, human beings who were mixed up in the involvements of such Demons as Balthazar himself. Elijah was typically strange in behavior, but it was all due to his constant running from the law. He had foolishly slipped up many times, losing his guard and letting things slip out to the wrong people who often ran their mouths to the ones who were after him for his dealings with the Occult - the Law. As for Walter, he was more quiet, more stealth in the places he dwelled in and he watched his back carefully, never slipping up once - he was a professional. The two of them were quite close in business relations with Balthazar who only called on them in dire times - one reason behind Elijah's current restlessness.

The doors flung open and a tall blond man stepped in, his body clad in a fine button up shirt - the sleeves rolled up on his arms - with leather dress shoes and casual slacks. He stepped in confident strides, nodding once at Elijah before taking his seat at the table. Once he was in his place, Balthazar eagerly took his own seat at the head of them.

"I apologize for keeping the two of yas' waiting." said Walter. His voice was deep and his accent raw and highlighted with the obvious origin of a Northerner.

"No need." said Balthazar with a calm sigh. "I've only just arrived myself."

"I thought that you might like to have this back." said Elijah who pulled an ancient relic from the boundaries from his pocket - the coin of the realm. As he tossed the coin, Balthazar caught it with a swift hand, eyeing it with a pleasant satisfaction as he opened his palm. "I've been keeping it for you."

"And I thank you." said the Half-Breed. The two wandering eyes of Elijah watched with an almost transfixed state as Balthazar began rolling the coin upon his knuckles. "Let's begin our discussion, shall we?"

"That's what we came for." said Walter. Balthazar shot him a cold glance beneath his arched brows, but it was brief.

"Maybe we should begin where you tell us how and why you're back on the Plane." suggested Elijah.

"And that is just what I plan to do." Balthazar grinned devilishly. "It all began with a promise, a promise to the Prince of Hell that I would personally see that he reclaims Constantine's soul, granted that I return to this world. Obviously, I managed to get Lucifer to agree to that and now through me his power is working. I am restored not just fully to what I once was, but rather anew."

Walter and Elijah listened attentively as he went on.

"Whilst returning me to Earth he sent along a small arrangement of Scavengers. One of them has already informed me on the return of Angela Dodson, the twin of Isabel - you know the one. Lucifer has also requested that I gather the soul of her as well, taking into consideration that he has no way of gaining claim over the dead twin since she is now free in Heaven. I've already got one assistant working alongside me - Ellie, Constantine's old flame. I'm not letting her in on all of my plans, because to be honest, I don't trust that she is capable of carrying them out successfully on her own; that is one reason why I've called on the two of you - both of you drabble in the same things as Constantine himself has drabbled in - and I'm allowing you the roles of spies you might say. Lucifer has agreed himself."

"One question," Walter began, leaning himself against the chair leisurely with his eyes closed and his palm extended towards Balthazar, "if yas' don't trust this Ellie, then why bother with her in the first place?"

"Because she is still handy." Balthazar replied, vainly gliding his hand over his slick hair. "Even if I have to guide her around on a leash - I'll be the one to worry about that. She knows how to get onto Constantine's weak side when she wants to."

"I see." Walter smirked. "Well then, I guess it's only reasonable to do such. Hell dweller or not, anyone who's ever been involved with Constantine should never be trusted entirely."

As he said this, his eyes aimed away from Balthazar and he appeared to take better pleasure in looking upon the surface of the table - he looked almost fidgety. Balthazar mused in a very brief bout of suspicion at this, but brushed it off quickly - he wasn't easy to trust humans.

"So how do we do it, Balthazar?" Elijah asked.

The Demon leaned back in the comfort of his chair, crossing his legs and raising his brows, the leather squeaking beneath him.

"How are we supposed to damn these souls to Hell?" Elijah went on.

"I'll tell you." Balthazar had a cocky grin that spoke volumes for itself. He had something up his sleeve; a devious card no doubt. "The Boss has recently informed me of a Solar Eclipse that will unfold in approximately seven nights. There will be an alignment of the Earth, Moon, Mars and its two moons. It will be the only night available to transport any soul we wish to Hell - provided we succeed - but we'll need to perform a ritual; and you know which one I speak of."

"We sure do!" Elijah grinned pleasurably at this.

"Now, there is a lot to be done for all three of us. The Scavengers, what few accompanied me, are flooding the city and I am waiting for news prior to any gathered information that may have slipped past me from one of them. I cannot follow Constantine and the Dodson woman everywhere myself."

"What do you need _us_ to do?" Walter requested with sensible firmness.

"I need you to make sure that Constantine has a bad week whilst Elijah gathers," Balthazar paused, his face was almost emotionless, save the steely glare in his devious eyes that aimed at the sight of Elijah, "the most renowned occultist group on this side of the world."

The two men exchanged glares as if coming to some silent agreement amongst themselves. When they glanced back upon the sight of their Half-Breed leader they nodded and Walter said quite straight to the point,

"Consider it done."

Balthazar's grin couldn't say enough about the malicious appeasement that was flaming pleasantly within him. He watched quietly as the two men paced steadily out of the conference room and once the two of them were gone, he trailed from his seat towards a glass mirror mounted on one far end of the room - a new one installed for his own use - but it wasn't to admire his reflection, it was rather to look into the eyes of Hell and to send the message to the Boss.

The sight became quite vivid. His reflection seemed to disperse with flame as a new image appeared. There he could see Lucifer perched arrogantly upon his thrown with four female Succubus seductively submitted about his feet - his wives. They were all about as human-looking as he presented _himself_, but their backs boasted black wings, almost like that of a Bat, and their eyes were completely red and their mouths full of fangs.

The scowling sneer expressed upon Lucifer made it quite clear that he was expecting Balthazar's report.

"So?" he hissed, partly frowning and partly smiling.

"I've spoken with Elijah and Walter. They're carrying out the plan; at your wish my Lord."

"Walter…" Lucifer spoke the name with bitter disgust as he reached for some morsel that awaited his hand on an iron plate. "I would not be too quick to put all of my trust in this one. He may have sold his soul to me years ago, but he is not who he claims to be by name."

"I understand, my Lord."

"And what of Ellie? When do you plan on making better use of her, Balthazar?"

"Do not worry. The Dodson twin will be coming to take her into headquarters. I will give Ellie her assignment afterwards."

"Oh I'm not worried Balthazar, but you should be. Remember our little deal. You succeed and I'll reward you generously. But if you fail, I will wipe you clean out of existence."

"I have not forgotten."

"And you'd better just remember." Lucifer said, licking his lips. "Seven nights, Balthazar. Seven nights. No screwing around." And the image faded into black and Balthazar's nervous reflection reappeared in a smog of a swirl in the mirror.

He gave in to a deep inhalation of air that was slowly released through his nostrils. He was full of ambition to carry out the task, but there was still that slight tugging feeling that was questioning his abilities. He couldn't afford to lose. If he made one little mistake, one little fault in the plan, he would be ended for good. Lucifer was a Fallen Angel of his word; and trusting Ellie had not been an easy task for Balthazar. Suggesting her in accompanying him had been a last resort more than anything. If she failed, he would be the one feeling the sharp end of the blade.

**To Be Continued.**


	13. Interrogation

**Interrogation**

Angela Dodson and her partner Weiss slipped out of her shiny black SUV. Weiss, being the tall thick Porte Rican man he was, easily pulled the young brunette from the back of the vehicle. The female, Ellie by notability, had a bitter frown on her pretty face and neither Angela nor her partner were in a mood for games.

As the two cops escorted the Demoness to the L.A.P.D., a good amount of steps from where they had parked, she couldn't help but stare with anxious trepidation, wondering what would happen to her next. Ellie certainly didn't want to screw up; and it wasn't jail time she was fearing. But that building looked rather intimidating with security guards lining its great doors.

"Come on, come on." Weiss huffed impatiently. "There ain't no time for a tour."

Ellie didn't comment on his remark, but Angela could hear the rattling in her sigh; and to be near Detective Dodson made Ellie all the more naked in the dark you might say. Both of them could see right through the other; Angela with her reformed sight of Half-Breeds and Ellie with her Demonic abilities. Both of them glared each other conspicuously each time their eyes met.

As they paced in quick strides down the sidewalk, a voice could be faintly heard through the traffic roaring on the streets. The closer behind them that voice neared the three, the more clear it became of who it was.

_John?_

Angela and Ellie spoke the name at once before glaring each other coldly.

Constantine came running abruptly up to the officers, frustrated and annoyed and maybe a little peeved at Angela.

"John," she snapped coldly, "what are you doing here? I thought I made myself clear over the phone."

"Isn't it clear you didn't? I'm here, aren't I?" He said it like a pompous.

"Weiss, take this woman inside. I'll be right behind you." Dodson scoffed.

Weiss did as Angela requested, commanding Ellie to get a move on each time she attempted to look sheepishly over her shoulder at the two.

"Angela, I need your help."

"I'm not a miracle worker." she huffed. "I can't drop everything I'm doing and try to get you in to Gabrielle's room."

"Well you're gonna have to try." John said. His dark eyes gleamed with desperation.

"John," Angela sighed wearily, as if saying 'no' was something she couldn't bring herself to do, "what is it that makes you so sure that Gabrielle will even know anything? He's human now,"

"_She_." John corrected her.

"Okay, _she's_ human now. What use does the dark side have for her anyway? She's powerless."

"Exactly. But what if she knows something, Angela? What if Gabrielle was witness to something, something that could be a clue? If I'm not able to use every possible asset I have in putting this fucked up puzzle together, my only result will be Midnite…"

"Midnite?"

"Yea. I'll be forced to use the Chair."

"The _Chair_?" she furrowed her brow and crossed her arms.

"Angela," John sighed, "there's a lot about me you don't know. The people I mingle with, the things I've dealt with…What I'm saying is that I can't possibly let you in on my world completely-"

"I think you made that quite clear last night. I don't expect you to go over it again." she cut in. John was growing impatient.

"Gabrielle has denied me access to see her. If I have the cooperation of a cop, then I'll get in easily whether her sorry ass likes it or not."

"John, I'm at work right now. You knew I wanted to interrogate Ellie and you weren't available, so I went with Weiss and picked her up myself."

"Was it any trouble getting in?" His question was sudden and there was a deep curiosity that settled within him.

"No actually," Angela replied, as if still surprised by her own success, "I got in easier than I thought I would."

"Foresight is always better than hindsight."

"I'm beginning to see that more than I ever did before. But I always thought the phrase was the other way around." she commented. "John, I need to get to work. I'll call you as soon as I can, okay? But I can't make any promises. If speaking with Gabrielle is deemed fruitless by my supiriors, neither of us will be seeing her."

"Unless you pull a few strings. You've got a badge." he reminded her.

"And a job I don't want to lose." she informed him.

"Fair enough I guess. I'll wait outside."

"It could be a while."

As Angela left him, he wondered if she was purposely being stubborn about cooperating. He wondered if this was some sort of feminine payback. If it was, it wouldn't be the first time. He'd had plenty of women throw his own actions and choices back in his face before.

†††

The interrogation room was anything but inviting. Ellie's eyes scanned the walls and floors like a cornered rat and the light above her head made a faint buzzing sound that annoyed her terribly. The only good thing about all of this was what Balthazar had told her; if she wanted to, she could walk right out of there. The only reason she had cooperated thus far was to make herself look as un-guilty as possible.

When Angela stepped into the room Ellie quickly put on a confident face. The Detective moved to the chair where she found herself sitting across from the furtive woman before her.

"So," Angela began, "you are the closest thing we have to a witness concerning the brutal murder in Ravenscar."

"Detective," Ellie spoke coy, "I'm only going to tell you the same story I've told John Constantine…and I can't expect you to, trust a woman like me," she hinted on the fact that she was a Half-Breed, "but I will assure you nonetheless that, despite the faction I am from and the reputation my kind has, I will tell you the truth. I have no reason to lie."

"Well Ellie, if it is the truth you're telling us, then I have little reason to doubt that. You cannot possibly be the one who took that poor woman's life at your own hands; but if you have an involvement in this, or know whoever does, I will do whatever I have to do to get it off your tongue."

"And I wish you all the best of luck in finding the killer - or reason behind her death. Perhaps she was a terrorist…have you thought of that?" Ellie sneered with delight. "Maybe she had a bomb implanted in her chest. Maybe it went off too soon the wrong way…you never know."

"Melina Abdulla was not a terrorist. She was an American citizen, a frequenter to her Church and a devoted wife, sister and friend to many. There was no evidence to support any such possibility."

"So you've been doing your research." Ellie mused. "I'd say your pretty much ahead of the game in that department."

"Not yet." Angela retorted firmly. "We won't be ahead of the game until we start getting to the bottom of this."

"Well I know why you want to hear it from me."

"Oh do you?"

"Yes. It's because of what I am. But you can ask Johnny himself. Even he has to admit that I've never been a killer or even involved in a crime."

"Just know that I'm aware of who you are more than you think." The arch in Angela's brow made Ellie resent her for 'obviously' knowing what happened between her and Constantine. Yet, the Detective didn't want to make it so obvious that she knew there was more to this being than a mere witness - they were being monitored after all. "Now, tell me the story. What happened that night…and I want full details."

"I was in my room, 409 I believe, laying in bed. It was quiet and late. Most everyone was gone home, except what few nurses worked the nightshift. I was just thinking quietly to myself, trying to decipher my own personal problems when suddenly I heard a shrilling cry. It was pretty brief, but I heard it loud and clear right in that hallway where I was staying. I got scared then, knowing right away something was up." As Ellie spoke, she was stern and serious. "I began to lose it I think, in that moment, thinking that maybe someone was out to get me. I don't know why, I was just crazy then, and I didn't want to stick around to find out. I went to Midnite's Club afterwards, needing a job anyway and just wanting to get away from that Asylum altogether."

"But why were you so quick to flee, Ellie? And why were you so desperate to take a job at a place like that?"

"Because I know the guy who owns it. I've always mingled there. It's always been a sort of sanctuary."

"A sanctuary in what way?"

"Just a sanctuary, okay?! I go there when I'm troubled and when I'm looking for a good time. That's why everyone goes to Midnite's, even John!"

"Really? Well let me ask you this: There were other patients on that wing, some of which were awake during the time of the murder, and not one of them reported hearing anything."

"Look, I don't know why, okay?! Maybe they had their televisions on. I don't freaking know!"

"You're getting pretty defensive for someone so innocent."

Ellie's face began to drain and her temples forged a scowling expression at the Detective.

"I don't have to sit and be interrogated this way. I didn't commit the crime and I can't tell you who did."

"You can't? Does that mean perhaps that you know who did it, and you've sworn an oath not to spill the beans? Because if you're behind this, you will be prosecuted."

"We'll see who gets prosecuted, Dodson." Ellie uttered this silently as she passed Angela by. She fled then, and really and truly she had every right to do so, which was frustrating for Angela and everyone else.

"Damn." Angela sighed. She wasn't one to curse frequently being the dedicated Catholic she was, and when she did, she had the utmost reason.

Weiss came in, leaving the other cops to argue amongst themselves about it all, and he placed his good hand - the one not bound to an arm sling - on Angela's shoulder. She jumped slightly at his touch, looking up at him like a lost puppy.

"What now?" she asked hopelessly.

"I don't know, Angie. I really don't know at this point. It may be one of those freak-of-nature things that goes unsolved."

"Maybe not." Angela seemed to rekindle her hope. "John Constantine may know someone else who may or may not be a witness to the crime."

"And who would that be?"

"A patient at Ravenscar. Another lunatic who goes by Gabrielle - don't ask me her last name - but John knows her well. I'm thinking that maybe I can go there and have a word with her, see what she knows."

"Let's go then."

"Wait." Angela's voice halted him. "I'd better go alone."

"Alone? Why?"

"It's just…I think I may be able to get more out of her if I speak to her alone. Besides, you and Constantine don't get along so well and…I can't have any distractions."

Weiss sighed with frustration, rubbing his temples roughly.

"Let me just ask you this," he began whilst continuing the rubbing of his temples, "why is it that every time you get involved with that man, I'm left in the dark about things?"

"Sorry Weiss. I know I've been strange lately."

"Well it's not so much you as it is him. We've had to arrest that man three times in the past, before you even came to work here. I just don't want you getting into any trouble."

"Don't worry. I can handle myself. Besides, John's pretty trustworthy despite his reputation."

"Well, your word's better than mine I guess." Weiss shrugged.

"I'll be careful…and I won't lead you around in the dark this time if I can help it."

†††

Ellie plummeted out the door angrily; but as she began stampeding down the stone steps, Constantine, who had been waiting patiently outside, stopped her in her tracks, grabbing her by the upper arm.

"Let go of me!" she barked.

He was surprised by the bitter tears that were forming in her eyes and it drove him even deeper into questioning her himself.

"So what happened in there, Ellie? Did they start getting closer to getting the truth out of you, only to have you run out with your little 'rights'?"

"No!" she snarled, trying to dry her eyes. "If you're wondering what the tears are for, I can assure you that it has nothing to do with this!"

"What then!?"

"It's everything, John! It's everything that's happening to me! I feel overwhelmed…you just don't understand what it's like!"

"You selfish little prick. If it's too much for you, I'll gladly send you on a one way trip home."

"Let go of me before I scream! Those security guards won't take kindly to you!"

"Let em' come. I've got every right to question your ass. I've got my reasons for being concerned here. Now, what did you tell them?"

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend? I'm sure the bitch will tell you - that I told her the exact same thing I told you."

"Don't talk about her like that!" John scowled, squeezing her arm. Subconsciously, he felt almost surprised by his own eagerness to defend Angela.

"OUCH!" Ellie expressed, shocked by how physically cruel he was. "Let go you damn jerk, before I claw your eyes out!"

"Let me just get this little message across to you; when I find out what's going on here, I'll come looking for you Ellie." He spoke this next sentence in a volume so low it was almost sinister. "I've already had to exorcise a full-fledged Scavenger out of Sean Henderson's roommate. Someone's looking for me Ellie. It's not you they want. That's how come I know that crock about you running scared is all bullshit. It's a setup, isn't it? A fucking setup."

He thrust her away and she stumbled on her heels, grabbing the metal rail that was conveniently close at hand. She looked at him with both disgust and betrayal, and he stared her down as bitterly as he could. As she trailed away, he shouted,

"I've got spies of my own, Ellie. Just remember that."

She hissed at him briefly before disappearing across the road.

"Alright," a firm voice said behind him. Constantine turned around, seeing Angela standing atop the stairwell with her hand on the bar rail and her purse strapped over her shoulder, her auburn hair still up in a ponytail - she couldn't have been standing there for very long. "I'm free. You can fill me in on what's really going down now."

"You know Angela, you should consider being a Paranormal Investigator." he mused arrogantly, pulling some nicoderm from his coat pocket. "You see all kinds of crazy shit in this field."

She sighed un-heartedly at this.

"I think I'll stick to being a cop for now, John. Come on, you can explain to me on the way."

**To Be Continued.**


	14. Getting Nowhere

**Getting Nowhere**

"But if she's working for someone who's out to get you, who could it be?" Angela questioned once John had finished his telling of why he was so quick to buck up against Ellie. Their drive through the city was a slow one with all the traffic - people were trying to get home from work.

"I have only two options for finding that out for sure." John said, chewing his gum ravenously. Angela could hear his jaw cracking. "If Gabrielle has no answers for us, then I'm going to have to figure a way to convince Midnite that I need to use the Chair again."

"Well, what's so bad about using this Chair? You sound pretty unnerved every time you bring it up."

"For one, it's dangerous. Two, Midnite is neutral, a rule follower. His purpose is solely to maintain and observe the status of the Balance. If it's broken, only then will he allow me access to the Chair; the one tool there is to see what has happened."

"Oh. Well isn't there any other way, any spell or something?"

"Not likely, Angela."

"What about that Liz girl? She's a-"

"No. She's not that powerful. She's gifted, but her visions only occur when they take a notion. They're unreliable as a source...About the only person who'd be of use to me in that department now is the woman sitting next to me, but I can see she hasn't been putting herself to the test." John said, glancing Angela's way. She sighed warily.

"John," Angela began after an unsettling silence.

"What is it?" He looked grim and daunted sitting beside her.

"I need to ask you something else about Ellie…a personal question."

"Shoot away."

"Was she by any chance a girlfriend to you?"

"Why? What difference does this make?" he snapped, looking her way.

"It makes a lot of difference to me!" she shot back. In her peeve, her hands were painfully gripping the steering wheel.

"She was just another woman." John snorted bitterly. "She meant nothing. Just somebody who…it's not your damn concern anyhow. It's not even important."

John could sense her emotional distress, her feelings had been hurt, but he tried hard to ignore her altogether.

Angela couldn't help but feel a great deal of disappointment. She wondered if he considered every woman this way - not that Ellie deserved any better, but still, it was the principle. Maybe Angela's mistake had been expecting too much out of him in the first place. But what could she throw back at him? They hadn't made any promises, they had been on no dates. The most chemistry there had been were little stares, smiles and those misjudged near-kisses.

†††

The two paced side by side towards the front desk of the Ravenscar waiting room where a small bundle of receptionists were working and sipping their coffee. It was dark now and the place was fairly crowded - they had to wait behind a line of six before they could speak to anyone.

The woman behind the desk shifted the rim of her glasses gently as she looked tiredly upon the sight of Angela who flashed her badge.

"I'm Detective Dodson from the L.A.P.D. I need to have a word with a patient here."

"Who would the patient be, ma'am?"

"Gabrielle. The same Gabrielle I was turned down to see last time I came in here." Constantine cut in.

The woman darted her eyes towards John who she recognized immediately.

"John Constantine believes that Gabrielle, as she calls herself, may be a possible witness to the murder of Melina Abdulla. It's important that I speak with her." Angela explained.

"_You_ can, but I'm afraid that the gentleman can't. You see, Gabrielle has requested-"

"Ma'am, I am a cop, and if I request that Mr. Constantine escorts me to speak with the patient, there are few things you can do about it."

The woman was reluctant for about a second before she decided to call a 'Dr. O'Conner' to the front over the loudspeaker.

They were soon greeted by a man of about sixty clad in the typical white uniform with a handsome smile and an inviting air. After explaining the situation and the reason for the request to him the doctor escorted them through an elevator and a long wing to a room numbered 402 - the same floor that Ellie had been staying on, they both concluded.

"Here it is." The doctor led them quietly into the room. Inside it was unlit and cheerless, and laid morbidly upon the cot was a thin pale figure who was hooked up to an IV - apparently she had been refusing food. She wasn't asleep apparently, for her hand was spread amongst her temples. Perhaps she was bedridden with both depression and a headache; and as the doctor leaned over her, he gently whispered, "There's a cop here who wants to speak with you."

"About what?" they could faintly hear her ask.

"Something involving the recent murder."

"Why me?"

The doctor merely shrugged and took his leave, allowing both John and Angela the privacy they needed.

Gabriel rose up in bed, and when she saw the two of them, she turned paler than a corpse and her blue eyes widened whilst her thin lips parted for a dropping of the mouth.

"Wh-what are you two doing here?" she stammered anxiously. "J-Jo-John! You bastard! I thought I told them not to-"

"Don't panic, Gabrielle." John said with smug disgust. "I'm not here to kill you now."

"Damn you, Constantine! The last thing I need on top of my other woes is seeing your face!" the once Archangel sneered with fearful angst.

"And here we find you boarded up in a room that just so happens to be on the same floor…" John shot Angela a look. "Go figure."

"I was just moved here yesterday morning! Ask the doctor himself!"

"Are you aware of the murder that took place here concerning a nurse by the name of Melina Abdulla?" Angela asked.

"Of course. Everyone is. It's been the talk of the ward since it happened. How could I not?"

"Alright." Angela said, crossing her arms. "Then how about a Molly Greystone? Ever heard of _her_?"

"No."

"Well she was a patient here recently. Turned herself in for much the same reason I understand you have." she went on. "But to make a long story short, we found out that it was a Half-Breed who goes by Ellie."

"I swear on my own blood that I knew nothing about an Ellie or a Molly whatever-you-call-it or anything else for that matter! I was asleep in my bed when it happened and knew nothing of it until morning!"

Angela turned around, speaking in a whispered tone so that only John's ears could make out her words.

"She sounds convincing, John."

He brushed past her so that he was shadowing over Gabrielle, his old advisor, and she cowered in his presence.

"So you know nothing, huh? Well that's the same load of bull I got out of Ellie."

"What's this all about, John? What is it that's going on that has you so suspicious?"

"Demons are on the Plane again. I had to flush one out of Sean Henderson's roommate Nigel early today; and it spoke a little message to me clean and clear; something about Lucifer reclaiming what's rightfully his."

"Well," Gabrielle became cocky in her bed, "I guess it's only a matter of time, isn't it; that he finds a loophole to bring you down where you belong. Because let's face it John, you're wicked, deviant soul deserves no membership in the house of God."

"You're one to talk, you meaningless skank. You just remember why your in that human body in the first place; you tried to bring Hell on God's Earth."

"You mean this Earth that you humans have vanquished into your dumping ground yourselves?" Gabrielle grinned madly, blundering into a questioning mirth. "It is true, John. And I will continue to see it that way!"

Constantine, who was peering over her, stood still and silent as he listened with disgust, his hand gripping the small metal rail of the bed.

"You haven't learned anything, have you?" John asked.

"I'm human now, aren't I? I'm like you, John! I never learn my lessons, I never repent with sincerity - yet I still get forgiven - and I won't give up my rotten ways!"

"You piece of shit. You think your crawling under someone's skin, don't you?"

"Of course not, John! I only want to show you how truly humanistic I've become!" she beamed, flinging her arms up. "Here I am now, wasting away in a hospital bed, hooked to an IV whilst rotting and decaying in my own selfish emotions of bitterness. I hate life and resent every living thing who has ever taken one moment of their God given existence for granted! You see, I've learned to fit in with your kind rather well, to your dismay and mine!"

"You're crazy."

"Indeed! But aren't we all? Aren't all humans insane in their own twisted little way?"

"Come Angela, I've heard enough of this shit." John snorted, turning away and clutching Angela's arm.

"Oh goodness John, goodness me!" Gabriel went on as the two were heading for the door. "I was disapproving your visit, your presence, but I'm rather glad you came now! You've given me something to think about!" She laughed madly.

John halted briefly at the door, taking one last glance at the poor fool laying in her own misery.

"I guess we'll see how hard you laugh when you meet the gates of Hell." he shot back.

At this, Gabrielle stopped laughing and grew restlessly silent.

"There's something to think about." Constantine went on, gripping the door handle. "If I were you, I'd put all that energy you have for laughing into thinking of a good way to work your salvations, because you're going to be doing it for a hell of a long time. Good luck on the other side. Should he succeed in whatever, I'll put in a good word for ya with Lu. I'm pretty sure you'll be useful working the mines." He shot Gabrielle a cold grin before shutting the door on the sight of her.

A cold silence seemed to mute the corridor, even their steps were quiet. Then a bout of angry wails could be heard coming from the room numbered 402.

Constantine had a grim expression painted upon his face, but he felt a delighting pleasure within himself as he popped a piece of fresh gum into his mouth. This was always how they ended up after their plans failed, all of them. They became hysterical lunatics with nothing left, dry of their own sanity - and he couldn't help but relish in that.

When their feet were once again padding the pavement outside in the dark of night, John and Angela began to transverse in words between each other once again.

"I guess that Chair is your only hope now, huh?"

"Yep."

"Who are you calling?" she asked, watching him pull his cell from his back pocket.

"A friend."

"Liz?"

"I have other friends besides Liz." he said, pressing the phone against his ear. She listened to him speak on the other end. "Sean, it's John. Yea, I'm at Ravenscar. Is Adam still there? Put him on then…Adam, yea. Yea. No, she didn't know anything. She's fucking bonkers now. Yea, I'm gonna do it…Listen, if I have to break in to his damn office, I will. This is a desperate situation... Alright, I'll be there shortly."

Before he could place the phone back into his pocket, it began to ring its tune wildly.

"Hello?"

Angela watched curiously as his face grew pale, seeming to twist into a knotted look of surprised confusion.

"Cheryl?"

He turned his back to Angela, lowering his tone. She was growing more curious by the moment and was fighting her desire to pry over his shoulder; and she might have had he not been so tall.

"Wait, hold on a minute. Now calm down and tell me what the hell is wrong."

Who was he talking to? Why was he so worried? And why was that voice on the other end so frantic?

"Cheryl, alright. Now listen to me; I need you to take it easy, alright?… I know how serious it is! Just stay calm and have your husband to tie her down. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Who was that?" Angela enquired. The expression that daunted John's normally arrogant face made her cringe with insecurity.

"It's my niece. She's in trouble." He spoke it fearfully.

"What are you going to do?"

"I need to get Adam, and I need you to take me there."

John had a niece? That was something she didn't know. The woman on the phone must've been his sister, and now Angela was worried for both John and this girl he was of relation to. What kind of trouble was it? He likely wasn't going to tell her, not in the state he was in now.

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

**A/N: **I've noticed that in some of the earlier chapters I've spelled Hennessey's name incorrectly whenever it should be Hennessy. My apologies.


	15. Gemma

**Gemma**

He was the most frightened he had felt in a very good while. She was only thirteen. She was just a kid, a good kid. A possession was a serious deal, and youths and elders didn't typically pull through as well as most adults - pulling one out of Nigel was risky business enough. If anything happened to Gemma, John would never live long enough to forgive himself. She was the one relative, the one flesh and blood he had in this world that he loved unconditionally without coming right out and saying it. And little Gemma, spunk and spry as she was, she loved her dear Uncle John better than her own father - albeit for good reasons. Her father wasn't the best of men.

On arrival at Sean's apartment, John was quick on his feet and swift in his words. There wasn't much time to explain and Adam didn't question him. Afterwards, they made a quick pit stop at John's flat so he could gather tools he needed - a few handy vials of Holy Water were a must should the Demon try any trickery.

The drive to Gemma's house was fairly out of the way. She lived with her parents in a small, unappealing subdivision on the outskirts of L.A.'s bustling city streets in a cram packed area with shitty little houses that had seen far better days.

It was difficult making the place out in the dark. The street was narrow with hardly anywhere to park and the one streetlight that was working was buzzing dim. The house itself was very small, a two bedroom, one bath dwelling at the most, and Angela felt as though she was getting a glimpse at Constantine's family photo album.

"Stay in the car, Angela." he had told her, but she didn't plan to sit there all night.

Cheryl Masters was not a striking woman. She had her hair up in a messy bun with loose strands dangling about her cheeks. But if not for her worried face and her pale complexion, as well as the cigarette hugged between her shaking fingers, she might have been lovely underneath it all; but there was an aura about her that spoke for itself: A woman who'd seen bitter years and angry tears. She was her brother's older sister no doubt.

Being here wasn't a pleasant feeling, and it wasn't just because of Gemma's state. In recent years, John Constantine had distanced himself from his family, especially his mother - their only living parent - and Cheryl barely saw or heard from him herself. But because of Gemma, he did stay in touch, even if it was just once or twice a year at the most. He felt sorry for the kid to be truly honest, and her father was to blame for that.

"John!" Cheryl was hysterical, just before having a nervous breakdown. She had always been hard as stone before and to see her this way now scared her brother all the more. "Thank God you're here!"

"Where is she?" John said, pushing his way through the den.

"She's in her room. Tied down on the bed…I had to do it myself."

"I can see that." John sneered at the sight of her husband laying up drunk in the living room.

Cheryl was suspicious of the old man who followed John through the door. She was certain she had never seen him in her life, yet, at the same time, he looked almost familiar. But aside from that, everyone was anxious; and the suspense became more unbearable once in the child's room.

Constantine felt himself freeze in the open doorway. He'd seen it happen plenty of times to several people, to plenty of kids even; but seeing it happen to someone he actually had feelings for was an unbearable thing to accept. Despite it all, he had to get into the saddle for her sake. By good chance he could easily lose her to a horrible death.

The state of the victim had the appearance of an imposter. That pale, wretched, snarling thing laid out upon the bed looked to be anything but a sweet faced little girl of eleven.

John climbed onto the bed, making himself as comfortable as he could on top of Gemma's bound body. Much like Nigel, she was strapped to the bed like a beast prepared for a sacrifice.

The discoloring in her eyes were that of a monster hiding beneath a child's skin, yet he could see his niece somewhere within, screaming and crying out for a savior.

"So, possessing people in general wasn't good enough." John spat. "You just had to go and dig up my niece, didn't you? Well I'll make sure you regret it dearly, asshole."

The Demon bolted Gemma's head up at him and John raised back slightly to dodge. It snarled and spat Hell-Speak in a form of Latin whilst he crossed the temples with Holy Water.

It foamed at the mouth and it sneered deviously with a cocky mirth pouring off its wretched tongue. John wanted to give it a good punch, but he didn't want to do harm to the body. The Holy Water seemed to burn it as it winced at the crossing of John's fingertip, but it held firm beneath it all.

"John," Adam said.

Constantine glanced him momentarily and the two men nodded. As John pressed the crucifix against Gemma's forehead, the beast inside began to scream, jerk, vibrate and do everything it could to get free whilst the two Exorcists chanted together. During the chant, Adam came to aid John by placing his hand upon his - the one that held the crucifix against the child's head. He could sense the fear in Constantine; the fear of losing something he loved.

"We exorcise thee, every unclean spirit, in the name of God the Father Almighty, and in the name of Jesus Christ, His Son, our Lord and Judge, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, that thou depart from this Creature of God, Gemma Masters, which our Lord hath designed to call unto his Holy Temple, that it may be made the temple of the living God, and that the Holy Spirit may dwell therein. Through the same Christ our Lord, who shall come to judge the living and the dead, and the world by fi-"

When the Demon finally broke free from its binding, the two men were forced to stop their ritual and were now faced with an unruly opponent who clawed Adam's cheek and bit violently into John's neck when he tried to pull the thing off from his friend. During the fight, Cheryl hid in the hallway, grabbing her rosary and praying heavily - something she didn't do unless it was a life or death situation. But in the bedroom the struggle raged on and the Demon had at last slipped out of their grip, finding safety and inflicting upon them oppression whilst it clung spitefully to the walls.

There was a cackling laugh that escaped between each snarl it had for them and both men were pissed. When the demon glanced contemplatively towards the window, John quickly appointed Adam to lock it.

"If it's round and round all night you want, then I can play that game as good as you." John challenged as he closed the door. "You weaseled out of that one pretty damn quick."

John slipped out of his coat, tossing it aside by the door and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. At this point, it looked like it was going to be a long night.

"Bloody hell." Adam scowled with frustration. "The damned bastard had to cling to the fucking wall like a bloody spider!"

"Don't worry." John said. "It's not going anywhere now."

Angela had already made way into the house, hasting through the den and finding a frantic praying woman leant against the wall of the narrow little hallway. The woman's dark eyes shot open at the sight of her, and she shook her head at Angela. Knowing her state of fear, Angela eagerly placed an arm over her shoulder and began to pray alongside her. They could hear the terrible sound of violent activity unfolding inside the room.

At one point the Demon became heavily anxious and was growing restless in the presence of the ones who wanted to deny its existence on the Plane and it attempted to leap over John's head and run through the door - but it attempted this thoughtless act with no success as he took hold onto it.

Constantine had the beast by the ankles now, dragging it carefully to the bed. It lurched and clawed the wooden floor and blood came seeping out from the tips of Gemma's fingers. Then it twisted itself into such an awkward position that it managed rather well to fling itself up towards John and get a good hold on his neck once again.

He wailed loudly, trying to pull it off by yanking Gemma's hair, but it wasn't until Adam blundered into the thing that it let John go and found a new opponent - it was like wrestling with a rabid ape. But being old certainly didn't make Adam's punch any less painful. With one strike, he sent it flying onto the bed again and he quickly toppled himself onto the body, pinning down the wrists and trying hard to bear the kicking it did on his thighs and stomach.

"John, get the belts!"

"I'm on it!" John retorted, anxious to have the thing tied down again.

It wasn't an easy task at all, and at a few points Adam was afraid he'd lost grip, but in the end of it all, Gemma's body was bound to the bed once more - this time more brutally. Neither of them could even imagine how Cheryl, being as unskilled as she was, had managed to tie her daughter to the bed in the first place on her own.

The chant was begun once again from the start, and both men prayed over the child together.

John held his palm firm against Gemma's sweat beaded forehead and Adam stood firm by Constantine's side.

"We exorcise thee, every unclean spirit, in the name of God the Father Almighty, and in the name of Jesus Christ, His Son, our Lord and Judge, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, that thou depart from this Creature of God, Gemma Masters, which our Lord hath designed to call unto his Holy Temple, that it may be made the temple of the living God, and that the Holy Spirit may dwell therein. Through the same Christ our Lord, who shall come to judge the living and the dead, and the world by fire. Amen."

The bolting Demon collapsed and Gemma's body grew warm and full of her normal pigmentation once again and both men released her, unbinding her hands whilst finding themselves to be as worn and battered as she looked. Her damp head shifted then and her eyes weakly peered open, and she at last saw the sight of her uncle and she jolted up with what little strength was left within her and around his neck she wrapped her arms and grieved. To his own surprise, he was so relieved by her safety that he didn't even hesitate himself to return the embrace. He held her tightly in a fatherly fashion, but the worst was yet to come.

"U-" she gasped, pulling away from him and clutching her chest. "Uncle John." The weakness in her voice and the lack of breath seeping in and out of her told him that something wasn't right.

"Gemma?" he asked, arching a brow. "Gemma, what's wrong?"

"I - I feel so - I fe-" The child never finished the sentence, for she was out and unconscious on the bed in an instant.

"Gemma! Gemma!"

By the sound of John shouting her name, Cheryl and Angela came bursting into the room and Cheryl shuved her way to her child's side, cradling her in her arms.

"What's wrong with her?!" Cheryl cried, looking at John for an answer. "What the hell is wrong with her?!"

"Angela, call the damn ambulance now!" Constantine shouted.

For everyone, it all seemed to grow into a dreadful blur after that. Their minds became fuzzy with the daunt that the reality of it all brought to their hearts. A child was lost to the fire.

**To Be Continued.**


	16. Angela's Premonition

**Angela's Premonition**

It was a rhapsody of intense moment after the sudden impact that Gemma's collapse had brought on. Everyone was in a haste and the hour was laden with madness. The gurney had been rushed into the emergency ward with Gemma laid moribound atop it and the paramedics left the family - John and Cheryl - to fret in the waiting room.

The silence was frightening and the scarce activity in the Hospital was unpleasant. Cheryl just wanted to close up into a shell as she sat quietly in the chair with Angela beside her - her face was painfully emotionless yet there was the boundary that separated insanity from sanity that wanted to break in two.

John paced the floor swiftly, chewing his gum like a drug-addict on a weed binge. When at last the nicoderm carton was empty, he tossed it warily into the soil of a potted plant before slamming himself into a chair about five seats down from his sister. His arms were on the armrests and his hands clutched the wood as tight as he was capable of clutching anything - an attempt to cure the unruly shaking that rushed throughout his nerves.

Adam was standing silent in the far corner across from all of them. His grey eyes kept trying to catch the glare of John's, and what few times he did catch Constantine's attention he would shoot him a pleading look that said; 'It's not your fault.' But it was no use telling John that - he was too full of rage with both himself and Hell.

Constantine kept thinking that he should've gotten there sooner. He kept thinking that if he had just forgot about Adam, believing he needed his assistance this night he might have made it, and those extra minutes might have avoided Gemma becoming so weak. She couldn't hold on that long and it was his own mistake.

As his feet shuffled once or twice, maybe thrice, on the floor beneath his chair, he thought bitterly of every full-fledged Demonic Entity that had ever fucking dared to cross paths with him. Seeing Nigel nearly lose himself was bad enough, but he didn't even mean a cent compared to what his own blood did. It certainly wasn't because he had no sympathy for the poor bastard, but Gemma was his niece for Christ's sake. She was the youngest blood in the Constantine family tree - considering her name had been burnt by the reputation of Masters due to Cheryl's poor taste back in the day - and she was the only one besides Constantine himself who saw the Half-Breeds.

Cheryl became aware that it wasn't just a nightmare, she was really here sitting in a lobby room with her distant brother and a couple of strangers she didn't know, one of which said something about being a cop on the way hither. Her daughter and only child, the only light in her life, was laying up in a ward now clinging to what little life she had left.

Her mind began plundering into questions that she hadn't received answers to, and she peered over at John, the only person she thought could give her those answers.

"I don't know how it happened." she uttered across at him. He turned his head slowly and began to study her morbidly as she carried on, "She went to school today, stayed over at a friend's house to study for a math test, and she walked home afterwards just like always. I was there to greet her in the yard - I was watering my cactuses. She gave me a big smile and we drove to the grocery store together to pick up a few things for dinner. While we were there, she asked me if she could run into the video store next door to check out a movie she missed in the theatres, I said yes…When she came back, she looked pale and she was burning up with a temperature, so I bought some Tylenol and we headed home. I thought that perhaps she'd come down with a cold. She just changed so drastically." Cheryl was trying hard not to choke on her tears. "Then she started acting out in a strange way. I've never seen it before. You only see those sort of things happen on television; you never expect them to happen to you, much less someone you love better than anything."

Cheryl began to wail and her crying unnerved everyone. Angela once again laid an arm over her back, trying to whisper 'It'll be okay', but she wasn't sure if Cheryl heard it.

"Hey," John began in a low tone, "Hey!" He spoke it a second time with a louder voice, trying to grab his sister's attention. "Listen to me. I know why this is happening. Someone's out to get me; they want to put me back down where I belong." Might as well hit her with the facts right off the bat before she had the time to think about anything, he thought.

"John," Cheryl said, drying her eyes, "what are you talking about? Who's out to get you?" For a moment she was beginning to think that all the stress was making her brother insane.

"I'm talking about me being the wager between Heaven and Hell, I'm talking about Lucifer wanting to stamp his label back on my hide again, beginning by hurting the people closest to me, people they know, people all around my life. It's only just begun I'm afraid. These are Scavenger Demons, some of Lucifer's minions - yes, it's real. And if you think I'm crazy, you'd might as well jerk that rosary off your neck and renew yourself a confirmed atheist right now. This is why they wanted to hurt Gemma, to bring me down and catch me while I'm at my weakest. I don't know which one of you are next," His eyes wavered about the room, casting a dark gloom of a look upon each of them. "If any. But I have to stop it and I have to start now."

Constantine stood from his seat, and he uttered unto them,

"I'm leaving."

"Then I'm going with you, mate." Adam said, stepping forward. "I've a good idea of what you're going to do, and I'm not about to let you do it alone."

"Fair enough, if that's the way you want it. Let's go."

"Hold on." Angela paused the two men, who turned abruptly to look at her. "How are you going to get there?"

"Angela," John began, "I appreciate the ride, but-"

"Hold on," Cheryl retorted, "just what the hell is going on here? You think for one minute you can leave me with some explanation I barely understood and let me stay here all by myself without any comfort whatsoever?"

"You'll have to." John said. "I care as much about that kid as anyone,"

"Oh really?" his sister argued.

"But I can't afford to stand around and wait for another one of my allies to get hurt."

"Your brother's right, miss." Adam said.

"And just who are you to side with him?" Cheryl demanded.

"I happen to be the man who-" Adam glanced John wearily.

"Who taught me everything I know." Constantine finished. "Go on and speak the truth. Ain't nothin' to hide from any of my bunch."

John Constantine and Adam Pool would've walked out right then and there, but another horrid scene unfolded right on the floor in front of them. Angela Dodson, who had been mostly quiet as a mouse in the dark, collapsed onto her knees, breathing in a rapid pant and clutching her forehead whilst she broke out into an awful sweat. To Cheryl, it looked to be a fell form of an anxiety attack, but John knew better.

"Oh God!" Cheryl said. "Get a doctor! Tell the nurses!"

"Hold up!" John said. "She's having a vision."

He went to her side, kneeling down and putting his hand upon her back. She looked up at him, her eyes were wide and they told him almost as much as words them self - Angela had a vision.

When her jolting sweat faze stopped abruptly and she had cooled down to a subtle calm, she clutched his arm quickly and said,

"You don't need to use it."

"Use what?" he asked.

"That Chair. You don't need to use it, John. I-I know who's behind this…and yes, Ellie's in on it too."

"Somebody get her some water, fast!"

"Thanks. I could use that." Angela said, exasperating.

"Now, tell me what you saw." Bringing her along had played into his favor more than he could have ever known. Angela had not been putting her abilities to use like she could have, and should have, and now suddenly she had had a premonition.

**To Be Continued.**


	17. The History Light

**The History Light**

It must have been past 1:00 a.m. because John hadn't thought to glance his wrist watch whilst on the way here. After Angela spoke of seeing Balthazar emerge from Hell again with a small bounty of winged beasts and a vengeance on his conscious mind, everything had resulted in a blur of angered thought.

He told her to pull up right before a small fire hydrant on the dark, only partially lit backstreet that shadowed the one way road to Midnite's setup rather harshly before blundering out of the vehicle in maddened haste. Adam, old but not lacking speed, jumped out from the backseat jogging after him, trying to finish lighting his cigarette all at once. Angela was the last to catch up to the two.

The Bouncer stood firm as he acknowledged the three bounding down the stairs in a scurry, holding up one of those stupid turret cards. Constantine had a look on his face that clearly stated he wasn't in a mood for tarradiddle with anyone.

"You know," he said, "the last guy who worked here got punched out for flashing one of those things at me."

Angela wasn't sure if John was suddenly trying to joke or what, but Adam smirked at the sarcasm. Despite John's attempt, the Bouncer held the card firm in the air. He was a new one, a buff fellow who looked like a combination of an ex-convict and a wrestler altogether with a tattoo of a python coiled around his left arm - there was something nasty printed on his forehead too.

"Oh well." John mused. "It was worth a try. A bear on a stone."

The Bouncer let him pass and Adam was next - he guessed with ease - and Angela was third.

_This is a stupid setup_, she thought, _looks like the three of us could get in together_. But that was just the house rules Midnite had laid out for the staff.

"Come on, concentrate." John said, getting impatient - considering he had wasted enough time with his sour joke. "You did it once-"

"Give me a minute." she said, her eyes trained on the card. There it was, a snap, a break of a twig. She knew what was on the other side. It was as simple as two plus two. "A rabbit in a suit."

The Bouncer let her pass, and once in, she felt even more uneasy than she had when she'd come to collect Ellie earlier that day. Maybe it had something to do with these late hour crowds. Every red eye seemed to watch her every trot as if asking them self what she was doing here. She certainly wasn't a regular, she was proud to say.

She could see John walking ahead by Adam, and Angela cringed in her own skin as they were forced to squeeze their way through a group of snickering grins and flaming eyes. Constantine hardly looked nervous at all and it was quite clear that he felt at home here enough to go with the flow, and it made Angela want to rush to his side and grab his hand - let him protect her for once.

"Just stay seated," Constantine said as he blundered through the heavy door of Midnite's office, "you look comfortable." He was purposely being a pompous to the African.

The Witchdoctor didn't glance him at all at first, for his dark eyes were aimed at the sight of some files he was scribbling on. Constantine pulled out the chair before his desk and propped himself down - Adam did the same.

"How's business, Midnite? Ain't missed me too bad have ya, lad?" Adam scoffed.

"You didn't show up." Midnite commented, his eyes still on the paper. "I figure Constantine is behind that."

"I figured you wouldn't be too sore at me if I stole him for one night, Paps'." John said arrogantly. "You know I had all the best reasons in the world."

"Did you now?" Midnite could easily come off as being pissed, but he was too calm at the moment to reveal any sense of hardness. He finished his writing and slipped stacked the papers neatly before slipping them into a folder and handing them to an errant Half-Breed who waited patiently by his desk. The being disappeared after receiving what he was waiting for.

Angela was silent the whole time at first, taking her stance not too far from the door behind John and Adam, yet somehow she was the first to receive the Witchdoctor's stare.

"I sensed the presence of a powerful psychic come through my doors today, then once more not too long ago. You had business here as well."

"I had to take Ellie down for questioning at the L.A.P.D. I hope it didn't cause too much trouble." Why the hell did she, a cop of all things, feel so compelled to make herself eager to apologize for any inconvenience? There was just something about this man who sat behind a desk that made her uncomfortable.

"Come now, John. You didn't even offer this lovely lady your seat?" the Witchdoctor grinned wryly, his palm extended in a questioning 'Well?'.

"Cut the shit, Midnite. I'm here to fill you in on the latest scoop."

"Don't worry John, I'm ahead of you and my ears are just waiting for the details."

"Well here are the details, colorful and full. The lady here had a vision and Bally's back on the Plane with a vengeance and mission."

"And you're caught in the knot of his web again. It's only a matter of time before the Spider comes to claim its dinner."

"Unless the fly can pull off a scheme to send the bastard back to where he belongs. I'm not sure how he did it, but it's obvious old Lu decided he needed someone worthy enough to carry out his dirty work, sending a few of his fucking blood suckers along for the ride. Two of them have already possessed a friend of mines roommate and I just got back from the hospital my niece is being held in from an exorcism gone bad."

"Getting old in the saddle already." Midnite mused.

"This isn't a fucking joke for you to laugh at. This is my niece we're talking about, not some random kid out of the ghetto."

"How good of you to confess your love for another for the first time in your life." the Witchdoctor said, folding his clutched hands beneath his chin.

"I'm sorry you didn't make the list, then." John scowled.

"Spare me your insolent comments." Midnite said, exhaling steadily through his nostrils. "Alright. So you need to find out where Balthazar is."

"And Ellie is in on it too." Angela put in.

"Unfortunately, she was let go today." Adam said. "Pity no one knew about this before bringing her in."

"Pity indeed. Now you're officially on a hunt." Midnite told them unsympathetically. "You'd better start now while the hour is early."

"The hour is late on my calendar and I need some rest if I'm gonna get anywhere tomorrow." John said, standing from his chair.

"Go on then, but the girl needs to stay put."

_What? _Both John and Angela spoke it at once.

"You heard me," Midnite went on, "A psychic is a threat to any missionary from Hell. She's better off here where I can keep an eye on her."

"Look here buster, I'm not some damsel who needs protecting. I'm a co-"

"Guns don't work in _this_ field." John interrupted, still eyeing the Witchdoctor. "Midnite's right. Stay here until we can sort things out."

"Oh, right." Angela retorted. "Stay here while you two go on a wild goose chase while I get to stay hidden in a freak show castle."

"I'm not going on a wild goose chase. I've got a good mind where Balthazar is; and I'm sure he'll give me a big welcoming party when I arrive."

"We'd better be off, John." Adam said. "We both need to catch some sleep. I feel like I've got bloody sand in my eyes as it is."

"Come on." John halted momentarily at the door. "And Angela, don't worry. He's trustworthy."

"What? John! John wait!…Hey, you come back here!"

The door shut and Angela attempted to run out of there immediately, but Midnite forced a shield, disabling her hands from even touching the door itself.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, looking back at the Witchdoctor.

"I can't have you running out on me, Miss Dodson. Now, why not have some Vodka with me on the rooftop."

"I don't drink, Mr. Midnite." she scowled.

"Wine then." he suggested, pulling himself away from the comfort of his chair as he wandered towards the wine shaft that was hidden beyond a set of doors. He paused when his hand clutched the handle, peering over his shoulder at her with wise eyes. "Come now, it'll calm your nerves."

"I hope you're not counting on getting me drunk for whatever reason." she said, hesitantly following him in.

"Not at all. Not at all." he chuckled.

Angela was peeved, or in stronger words, pissed. Who did John think he was, running around, keeping her in the dark, and now forcing her to stay put in the company of a stranger? - a weird character at that. Confound that Constantine!

†††

John and Adam had hailed a cab after several steps during their brisk footing towards the lighted streets of downtown where the old storefront buildings towered over them. Sean had offered the old man a place to sleep on the couch, but the place stunk to bad for him to take the young man up on the offer - even to him. He was more eager to take his chances in a motel.

John arrived home by 2:32 a.m. and he was dog-tired climbing the stairs that took him to the apartment dwellings over the bowling hall - most of which were empty of life. He couldn't help but wonder, even with all of the more important things running through his mind, if Beeman's family had already staked claim over the place. He reckoned he'd find out when and if someone came knocking on his door one day with an eviction notice.

He fingered in his pockets for the keys, only to become disarrayed by not finding them. He'd lost them somehow, for the only thing he retrieved were the effigies and the crucifix, as well as the small bible he kept at hand.

"Damn!" he protested. "Fuck!"

His hand clutched the handle of the door, expecting to tear the whole thing down if he had to - he was just that angry and tired - but it wasn't locked at all.

This was something to be suspicious of; he remembered very, very well locking the door - he always did. That was one thing he never allowed himself to forget, even when he was drunk. It had become a subconscious ritual.

_Something's up_, he thought as he carefully pushed it open. The door made a silent but rattling creak as it moved open and he could see that the place was brightly lit - another state he hadn't left the dwelling in.

John's eyes scanned the room carefully and seeing as no presence was visible, he stepped in with stealth, readying himself for anything malicious.

One of the far shutters that neared the way to the sleeping chamber had been opened and the sound of the outside world was roaring in small bouts of purring engines mingling in the streets. L.A. hardly ever slept entirely. But aside from the sounds of the city, he suspected someone had either crawled in through that window and somehow managed to open it without force, or they were still here - noting the unlocked door - and were standing out on the rail. To his own surprise, his calculation of a lingering presence had been correct.

A tall silhouette of a male form slipped in with a cigarette hugged between his lips. He was blond and very well dressed; nothing fancy at all, but he was neat and casual with his hair slicked back. His face was flushed with warm animation and the bright color in his eyes was not the least bit diluted, until he spotted Constantine of course.

"You're here." the man said, seeming almost surprised himself.

"What the hell is going on?" John demanded. "How did you get in here without breaking in?"

"I uh," the man shrugged as he came closer to the lighted table and kitchen area, "have my ways."

The rawness in his slain talk sent a familiar shockwave of a distant memory to Constantine's mind, and when the man's face became distinct in the light of the room, John stood almost frozen like a statue, knowing right away who it was.

"Aaron." He nearly chocked the name out as if a Ghost had come to add itself to the already established spirits that followed Constantine around. "A-Aaron, what the hell? What are you - Why are you here?"

The man grinned almost smugly, placing his well used cigarette onto the surface of the table and helping himself towards the kitchen as if it were his house and John was the estranged guest.

"Aaron…" he murmured his own name with a sense of delight, "…It's Walter now." He retrieved two glasses from the cupboard and a fresh, unopened bottle of Vodka, filling each glass generously before returning to the table.

"Why the change in name?" John asked, still watching him from the door.

Aaron, or rather Walter, glanced him with an arch in his brow as he sat the glasses down.

"Come on, John. Sit and have a drink with me."

John came to the table, not watching his every move, but rather looking on to him in a shattered light.

"You hardly look happy to see me." Walter mused. He had glanced John once whilst sitting and hadn't taken his eyes off him since, not even between sips.

"I don't know if being 'happy to see you' is a wise thing to be at the moment. I still don't know why you're here. Can't possibly be anything good with you breaking in…must've used one of your tricks."

"Ah," Walter grinned, swallowing the harsh substance that burned the walls of his throat. "Still the same ol' John. Just as negative as ever."

"I'm not so much negative as I am suspicious these days."

"Really now? I think I may have a good idea of why." Walter chuckled quietly. "I'm here on business. I was in the neighborhood doin' trade with a witty seamstress - needed her to make me somethin' nice to wear for a ceremony I'm attending. Came all the ways' from New York." It sounded like a 'New Yoke' coming from him, though not quite spoken that strongly as it still had its predominate 'r'.

"All the way to Los Angeles for a seamstress to make you something to wear - must be a pretty important ceremony." John said as he crossed his legs beneath the table and sipped his drink.

"You could say that." Walter said. "It's a sort of Military Memorial, for all the lost arms in Iraq."

"Now I _know_ you're up to something."

"Come on, John. Cut an old friend some slack." Walter said with a gentle mirth. "I had a friend who was shot overseas. Had to pay my respects."

John took a moment to render the appearance of him - and his apparel. Walter knew what he was about to say.

"Last time I saw you, you were wearing torn jeans and a jacket that said 'kiss my ass'."

"Well, I could say you've changed yourself just a tad bit - appearance-wise." Walter smiled.

"Remember our band, Mucous Membrane?" John asked with a grin tugging at his lips as he recalled the old days.

"Sure do." Walter replied, trailing down memory lane. "God we were awful, weren't we?"

"The title said it all." John said, shaking his head and smiling.

"Hey, you remember that club called Pinnacle Eclipse?" Walter leant his arms atop the table as he spoke. "We must've played there every night for two whole weeks-"

"Solving a paranormal phenomena all the while." John added. "Talk about a run around."

"Yea, we barely got paid for our shitty music and lyrics, much less flushing a Demon out of the place."

"And losing a little girl in the process." John said with grief in his tone and regret in his eyes.

"You can't still be blaming yourself for Astra's death, John. You did everything you could to protect her. It was just out of our league at the time. Come on, let's not talk about it anymore."

"I've seen your uncle." John said, eager to change the subject.

"Adam? How the hell is the ol' bum?"

"Doing good, despite his luck." John nodded. "He's actually being my temporary replacement for an apprentice for the time being. I figured _I_ needed him more than the streets did."

"And you managed to get the stubborn ol' mule to cooperate? I'm glad to hear it. I bet it feels weird having someone that you were once an apprentice to become one to yourself."

"At times. He helped me flush a full-fledged Demon out of my niece tonight. She's…She's in the hospital right now."

"I'm sorry to hear that, John."

Constantine glanced his friend suspiciously, knowing his tone was too confident and expectant to be deemed as mere sympathy. He knew something.

"You don't sound too surprised. Maybe you missed the part where I said full-fledged Demon."

"Nope." Walter said, scratching his head. "I heard yas' loud and clear…about as clear as this glass is empty." He began to replenish his glass with more Vodka.

"Then you must know about what's going on around here. You must know that Balthazar is behind it. I assume you've heard of him; he's quite a name in the Half-Breed world."

"I know all about the guy. I also know all about what happened with him sneakin' his way back onto the Plane just so he can find a clever way to put your soul back in Hell."

"I've got this nagging feeling that you didn't come to warn me."

"And your intuition hasn't lied to yas' yet." Walter began lighting a fresh cigarette. "He wants the other twin, the Dodson girl…Lucifer that is. Bal' says he's got Ellie assistin' him on this so-called scheme he has, but from the way I understand it, he's leadin' her around in the dark mostly."

"And you're in on this?"

Walter shot John a grim look, but the pale expression was soon to become a wry smile as he puffed his cigarette.

"I reckon I am, John."

"What the fuck are you saying then; that you're working under them?"

"Yep. That's the reason behind the name change. See, I got a new identity now and the Aaron Barns you once knew has been completely erased."

John retained his seated position at the table with the glass being swirled gently in his hand whilst he glanced the man before him.

"So, what's your purpose in all of this? Is Balthazar using you to weasel your way into my affairs? Or does he have another use for you? Perhaps you're here to collect my soul yourself, or find out where the Dodson twin is?"

"Not exactly." Walter pulled the cigarette from his lips, burning it out on the table. "See, I'm not that sort of guy. When I'm appointed to do somethin' I like to have a little fun first. I like to mess with your mind a bit, get yas' all worked up over what seems to be nothin' worth your energy, then, like a bass on a line, I reels yas' in to the guy I'm workin' with."

"Your boss, huh?"

"I prefer 'the guy I'm workin' with'. The only boss Walter has, is Walter himself."

"Doesn't sound too promising for a plan. So, what are you going to do now that I know your secret?"

"Secret? Oh John, but I wanted yas' to know!" Walter laughed. "Why the hell else would I tell yas'?"

"I was hoping it would be a joke. I can't imagine why you of all people would turn out to be such a sour grape."

"Ah, I was never that good in the joke department. You were always the biggest joke of em' all, John!"

Constantine felt him move and he flinched in himself as he attempted to dart from the table, but his feet were stayed and they began to lift from the floor; his entire body became entrapped within itself by the force of Walter's own abilities of the Dark Arts practitioner her was.

"Well, well, well…what's this? He can't even move." Walter laughed.

"You'd better put me down if you know what's fucking good for ya!" John growled, unable to struggle against the force.

"HA! That's a nice line, John. Especially since you're the one floating in midair!" Walter motioned his other hand and a set of shutters on the lineup of windows flung open and the glass pane raised. "Have a nice flight." Was the last thing he said as John was thrown violently through, his body soaring out of the room like a gust of wind.

**To Be Continued.**


	18. Little Settlements

**Little Settlements**

Midnite was leaning forward with his arms pressed against the cement blocks on the balcony's edge. The little breeze whispering through the night air made the flaps of his jacket flow slightly - Angela noted this in the dim light shining down from the light pole. He didn't sigh, and he scarcely moved, and if not for his slouchy position he might have had the regality of a Samurai. It wasn't precise to her as to why she saw him that way, why she felt that essence about him, but somehow she did.

"The wind is cool." he uttered with monotone quietness. "Summer is nearing its end." There was an empty glass by his right arm, and a burnt out cigar tossed inside the rim.

"No doubt." Angela replied. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she could feel the breeze making her lighter strands of hair flow around her face. "I guess it was never really over, was it?" she mouthed tiredly. "It was never laid to rest-"

"This is the world in which Constantine dwells, Detective." Midnite uttered, never glancing her. "He is a savior, an avenger. There will always be Lucifer's malicious attempts lingering in his shadow. He knows this."

"Then I should be scared." she stated.

"Of what?"

"Of being around him."

"In his opinion, yes. In mine, no."

"What?"

"You have the same gift as he-"

"Look, I know this…seeing the Half-Breeds. I've always seen them, I just pushed the reality out of my head. I wanted to forget, until that one unpromising day. I had to see them again, so that I could know what my sister saw."

"Yes. But you never really stopped."

"What do you mean?"

"The ability - it was always inside you. But it was ignored."

"Yea, I suppose that explains why I never missed a shot." She caught a small glance of his wry smile. "You know, speaking of Isabel, my sister, I wanted to ensure that she received a Catholic Funeral - but suicides aren't granted such honors." she sighed. "My parents were looking into it but," she paused, "that's not likely to happen."

"Maybe I could help." Midnite ensued her dilemma with another possibility.

"How?" Angela eyed him thoughtfully, her arms still crossed over her chest, hugged against her warmly.

"I know someone who may be willing to see that your sister gets the funeral she deserves. A Catholic Priest who owes me a favor." He exchanged a momentary glare with her as a small grin eased onto his face. Touched, Angela returned the smile and said,

"Midnite, I can't thank you enough." she sniffled, fighting any sign of tears - she couldn't help but get emotional whenever Isabel was involved. "You know," she mused, "I hope John knows what a dependable friend you can be."

"John?" Midnite shook his head, smiling. "Hell no! Not that bastard. But that's okay; I can't stand him much neither."

Angela covered her mouth with her palm as a light mirth slipped freely off from her tongue.

†††

What a blow, an incredible impact to the entire body. But he was lucky, tumbling painfully into a heap of filth, landing inside an open trash bin. He could tell he was laid out on something hard - cement floor more than likely - and it was aching the bones of his thin frame.

Constantine opened his tired eyes, groaning and feeling the pound of a headache. Above him was a dangling light, its yellow glow contrasted poorly in the darkness around him, flickering and buzzing on and off as if it were just before blowing out - nocturnal insects began to appear in ghostly fashion, swarming around it. The light was beaming directly at his face, and he tried to shield his eyes whilst pulling himself up.

"Where the hell am I?"

The place was vast, empty and dark, save the spot in which he lay. There was nothing around him, and he was suspecting himself to be in a warehouse. As he sat up, looking around and trying to decipher the place, he suspected that Balthazar was behind this - or one of his goons at least. Then Aaron (Walter) came back to mind, and Constantine scowled with bitter disgust.

"Fucking son of a-"

"Come on John," Another voice became audible in a gentle echo, "is it me you're sore at?"

"Aaron, where the hell are you?" John demanded gruffly as he staggered to his feet - it was then that he realized he had been robbed of his coat. "What the fuck has your sorry ass done with my coat?! Where are you!?"

"Calm down, calm down." Suddenly, Aaron's voice grew subtle and laced with wariness. When he stepped into the light, John hit him without giving it any thought, sending the fellow to his ass.

"Feel good? Let's see how you like this!" Constantine snatched him up by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to his feet and readying his fist for another throw. Aaron waved his hands in front of his face, motioning for John to stop.

"John, please! Give me a moment to explain myself before you break my nose!"

Constantine hesitated, looking at the rat in his grip. He wanted to tear him apart right now and be done with it. But it occurred to John: Why wasn't he fighting back?

"Alright," he spat, shoving Aaron back, "talk!"

"Thanks." Aaron said, sarcastically. He straightened the wrinkles in his shirt caused by John's tight grip.

"Where the hell am I?"

"A warehouse."

"Figures. So where's Balthazar hiding?"

"He ain't' here. I ran after ya after sending yas' out the window. Wanted to get yas' somewhere safe before they had a chance to go lookin' for yas'."

"_They_?"

"A fella' named Elijah. I work with the dickhead. Bal sent us out to give yas' a bad week, see. So I had to ensure that I got to yas' first. I couldn't let em' know. If they did, you'd end up dead, John - not literally dead, but bound to a death sentence! If Bal got a hold of yas' - and Elijah would've made sure he did - you'd be a goner altogether!"

"What the hell…Aaron, what the hell is this about?"

"Okay, okay, look! I know it's fucking confusing here. I had to play the cards, ya see. I had to make sure I made it look real! Elijah was right outside the hall, and he reports everything to the jackass in charge. I took yas' here, knowin' you'd be safer."

John shook his head, attempting to step past his friend, but Aaron pushed him back.

"Don't move, John! For God sakes. You move, he'll see ya plain as day. I got a pentagram drawn around yas'. As far as Bal's concerned, you're invisible."

"So," John mused, "you're really on my side?"

"Really John."

"Yea, I'd like to believe that. But after all that's happened, I'm not so sure who my allies are or who my enemies are, save a small few."

"John look, you got every right. And I don't blame yas' for punchin' my ass out. But ya gotta believe me, see. I had to do it. I had to trick em', and the only way I was able to do so was selling my soul to the Devil. I knew it all along, had a vision…this was my only chance."

"Why couldn't you just tell _me,_ you dumb ass, instead of selling your own soul to Hell? You just gave yourself away to the bastards."

"That wasn't even an option in my book. If I even considered telling you, I'd be dead before a long shot."

"And all this was worth your own soul?"

"Yea. Yea it was, John." Aaron turned away, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking grim. "There's gonna be a solar lineup in six days. The moon, Mars and its two moons - it'll be a night of ritual, Satanic ceremony. Bal will be able to put any soul he wants into Hell…and if he succeeds, you're outta here."

"I don't give a rat's ass if it's a lineup of every fucking planet in the solar system. God's already cleared a spot for me in _His_ temple. They'll have to go through that, and it's not happening. His word is better than Lu's."

"You just don't get it!" Aaron said, turning around and eyeing him nervously. He ripped his shaking hands from his pockets, holding a carton of drags in one and a lighter in the other. He lit up quickly and began smoking almost frantically.

"What are you talking about?"

"The ritual, John! The ritual!" Aaron fretted.

"What about the damn ritual?"

"Elijah's gonna gather every fucking Occultist Master on this side of the Earth. It'll be performed in the cemetery your old man was buried in…it involves a dead corpse of a relative who's soul went straight to the pits of flame. You'll be sacrificed, takin' your pap's place. You're both blood - him in Hell, you here - it's all they need, John…it's all they need! It's a fucking swap-out!"

A swift shiver seeped throughout the place and the silence between them was more frightening than the previous words spoken. At length, John said,

"What about Angela? I know she's as endangered as I am. What are they going to do with her?"

"I can't tell yas'." Aaron said, rubbing his temples and trying to keep the cigarette between his teeth whilst talking at the same time.

"Why not?"

"Because, you'll run after her thinking you can save her hide only to fuck your own chance of survival in the process!"

"Aaron," John said, clutching his shoulders, "if you don't tell me, I may have to kill you…and I'd hate to have the blood of an old friend on my hands."

"You're crazy!" Aaron said, grinning like a fool, "you take a life, you're all there's!"

"TELL ME!" Constantine's voice rumbled throughout the warehouse and Aaron deemed it best not to resist him any further, as the rage in his eyes made him look almost possessed.

"Okay." he swallowed. "Ellie's on it now. She's headed towards Midnite's with a trick up her sleeve - one Balthazar's guiding her through I'm sure."

John let him go, moving out of the pentagram and racing out of the place.

"John!" Aaron shouted. "John, where the hell are you goin'? John, give me a chance to turn the fucking lights on at least!"

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for the reviews. I have something big planned for the final chapters (not many left now) so hopefully I won't disappoint my loyal readers!


	19. She's Gone

**She's Gone**

There was something about the dark. It settled something fearful within her soul, like a knot in the queasy gut, like a migraine striking the eyes, like a gunshot to the leg. There was something about the dark, something about this night.

It was becoming second nature to her again, instinctive even: Reaching out with the part of her that couldn't be harmed, couldn't be taken, extending supremely fine feelers from the field that surrounded her from the Club's balcony - like the unseen field that exists around everyone, except hers could be controlled.

She extended those feelers from her lifeforce-field upward, extending it and letting it soar throughout the streets below, feel the life forms that dwelt in every nearby building, and drawing back a bit at the furious response she picked up somewhere from the backstreets that bordered the alley. Whatever it was, it had felt her psychic groping - and had resented it so much until the rage sensed made Angela jump in her shoes. She got scared then, putting her shields back up. She hadn't intended to feel anything really; she was just flexing her new muscles you might say, putting her skills to the test. But when she found it, she grew panicked.

Where the hell was Midnite? Why wasn't he back yet? He said he was just going down to close up, put the chairs on the table and sweep the floors - it wouldn't have taken him this long, would it? Without reluctance, Angela began making way back inside, opening the door that greeted one from the balcony and led one down a flight of stairs straight into Midnite's office.

She halted. There was a shrilling scream that came beaming through the air. The cold chill of the morning began feeling warm, and the scream was the one sending goose skin to her flesh.

She peered slightly over her shoulder, listening carefully and waiting…there it went again, only this time it was louder.

It was a youthful squeal. It could very well be a child; but if it was an adult, it had to be a woman - a young woman perhaps.

Angela began plundering in her bag, retrieving her handgun and loading it quickly. She plummeted through the door and raced down the stairway. The force shield Midnite had set up earlier was still there, blocking her access to the Club room, but she searched with haste and found a back way that led her right where she needed to go - a convenient shortcut to the alley.

The squealing was still going strong and there was a whisper - a demonic one. Angela was scared, afraid of being seen by an unearthly beast, but she wasn't about to let an innocent be murdered. She put down her shield, letting herself search the area for the essence, letting it lead her to the body heat given off by whoever was there. She could almost see that evil thing, like a black shadow with gaping red eyes. The closer she came, the more she could decipher that there were two of them.

Then she remembered: What good was a gun in this situation? She knew it was demonic, and she knew that John was right….but hell, did she really have any other choice? It wasn't like she had a crucifix and Holy Water at hand, and she'd been too quick to save a life in the nick-of-time to scout out Midnite's office for something she could use…now she felt stupid. Stupid for not thinking. She was a cop for goodness sakes! Maybe she could pull a fast one, scare them off and grab the kid and run. Maybe it wouldn't be anymore than a couple of Half-Breeds looking for mischief.

_HELP! _

_SOMEBODY, PLEASE!_

That little voice was becoming so apparent for what it was. It had to be a little boy, it just had to. And those hissing laughs, so mocking and crude; one sounded female, the other Angela wasn't so sure.

She was right at them - opposite the wood fence that separated the boundary - and she wasted not a moment's time rounding the corner with her gun aimed and ready. But before her she saw glowing red eyes, one pair belonging to a slender female, the other pair belonging to a gangly little creature whose appearance was wretched and sickening.

Angela froze whilst they began to circle her like lions around a prey. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely breathe. She was scared and they had her cornered. Some force was holding her from reacting and she couldn't put her finger on it. Then the small gangly Demon seemed to warp itself into a shadowy form and it darted right into her open mouth, nearly suffocating her in the process.

Angela gasped, her mind was gone, her rationality lost, her spirit held captive by what was dwelling inside. The slender female began circling her closer, playing at her auburn hair with her claw-like fingernails, humming and giggling some selfish tune.

"What's the matter, Angela?" she mouthed in her ear, almost playfully. "Cat got your tongue?"

The female was Ellie, but Angela didn't know. Her hand lost its conscious grip on the handgun. She was in some horrific, inescapable trance!

"I guess the time comes for all of us." Ellie whispered, admiring her victim. "Some of us make it, some of us don't. You know there's a purpose for all of us, don't you Angela? Just like your witless sister…what was her name? Isabel. Yes, Isabel…pretty name. It must've been so hard having to see what goes bump in the night." The Demoness narrowed her flaming eyes, her voice laced with ruthless vanity.

Angela's head tilted dumbly to the side, as if her body had gone limp. Ellie went on,

"And then Johnny came along…oh, that arrogant man. So handsome, such a charmer. He must've been so hard to resist. I ought to know." she cackled. "And then he opens your eyes to the world behind the world, am I right? Of course I'm right. And did you ever think that maybe you had some upper hand over me? Some advantage maybe, like you could see right through me perhaps?" Ellie shook her head, curling her fingers beneath Angela's cold chin, making her shake her head at the same pace. "No. No, it doesn't work that way. I guess that, you humans don't mind when someone comes along and steals your man right out from under you. You 'pretend' that you don't need him, you act like you're through and move along, never seeing the damage it's doing to your soul. But I see, I can see my hurt and I acknowledge it without fear. And I never stop until I get my revenge. Now we get to see who the real criminal is, don't we? You're gonna end up just like your sister, Angela - you're going to commit a horrible sin. But unlike her, John won't be there to save you…because he's going to Hell also." She pulled away from the Detective and frowned bitterly, fingering the silver cross that dangled over Angela's chest. "Now, you know where to go." She yanked the cross off, and she seemed to take all of Angela's protection with that little necklace.

Backing away and tossing the necklace aside, Ellie watched as Angela's body cantered awkwardly down the alley, until it dispersed out of sight. She disappeared herself then into the darkness, noting the oncoming sound of male voices.

"Angela! Angela!" John's voice was hard, but he couldn't hide the panic within him. Aaron and Midnite were struggling to catch up to his long strides.

Constantine paused, trying to let his sensory pick up her essence - nothing. His companions caught up to him then, and he scowled at the Witchdoctor standing on his left.

"Damn it Midnite!" he shouted. "You were supposed to protect her! You were supposed to fucking protect Angela!"

"John," he uttered, feeling about as bad as he could, "I take fault for my misconceptions, but I could not prevent this from happening."

Constantine snatched Midnite by the collar of his shirt, snarling at him resentfully. Despite this, the Witchdoctor kept his cool.

"You're the most undependable human being I've ever known."

"John!" Aaron struggled to pull him off. "John, let it go. Let it go, John."

Constantine was wary and agitated, overwhelmed and defeated. He'd failed her, and he'd failed himself. Then a small silver glimmer caught his eye in the earliest hours before dawn. There it lay, lifeless and fading, Angela's silver cross. He bent down and scooped it up gently after walking towards it, letting the cross dangle before his face - it was hers no doubt.

"They took her." he mouthed. "They took her to Balthazar. We have to go!"

"Hold it!" Midnite said, holding John back. "Don't be blinded by love."

"What the fuck did you ever know about the word?" Constantine sneered, fighting with the pain inside.

"Listen to me, John. Don't lose your rationality now of all days. If you want to save the girl, and yourself, you must think. You cannot do this alone…I doubt this is the same Balthazar you used to encounter in the old days. He'll be stronger, stealth. The girl is being used as bait, don't your eyes see?"

"He's right, John." Aaron remarked. "Listen to em'. We need to gather our resources…starting with Adam. We gotta get our heads straight, think things out. We can't do this without a plan, and you know it."

"Shit." Constantine groaned. "How the hell are we gonna pull this off?"

"That's why we need Adam. We need as many heads as we can get…" Aaron said.

"Alright. Let's hurry. Midnite, you know where to find Adam. Aaron, you go with me back to my place. If it's a fight Bally wants, it's a fight he'll fucking get."

**To Be Continued.**

* * *

**A/N:**I would like to apologize to my 'anonymous' reviewers who have been so nice and supportive with their comments, but my reason for blocking anonymous reviews now is due to a spammer who has been flaming all of my stories for no substantial reason other than a mere prank. I've decided not to delete the flame they left on this story so that all who are curious can see. My apologies, but to avoid spam, I've blocked anonymous reviews - nonetheless, I hope this doesn't discourage anyone from reviewing as I treasure your feedback:)

As a side note, I have the first chapter of _The World Beyond The Stage_ up: A Prequel to this piece.


	20. It's All In A Spell

**It's All In A Spell**

They were making preparations all morning it seemed. Constantine and Aaron were found in Beeman's old 'goods chamber' when Midnite, Adam, Sean and Nigel had arrived. No one spoke much, save Constantine asking Aaron or Midnite to toss him some tool laying on the table.

The most awkward thing about it was the lack of speech between Aaron and his estranged Uncle Adam. The most the man had done was nod his head at the old guy. Not that Adam nodded back, or even smiled for that matter. It was as if he despised his nephew, and Aaron suspected that he must have known more about him than he particularly liked. Why else was he so beside himself? But in the depths of the moment, Aaron grew tired of it all and he spoke out,

"Good God, man! I'm your nephew! Don't ya' know me?"

Everyone halted from what they were doing. John looked up from the loading of his crucifix tommy gun and Midnite slipped a few vials of Holy Water into his pockets slowly. Sean and Nigel remained leant against the wall, listening carefully. Adam could feel peering eyes upon him, as if they were all waiting patiently for him to say something in response.

"Yea," the old man spoke at length, "yea I know you. I know you damn good, a lot better than I'd like to right now." He moved away from the group, turning his back to everyone.

"That's what I thought." Aaron said.

"Those two are related?" Nigel whispered to Sean. "The old man's British, ain't' he?"

Sean didn't respond.

Aaron could feel his hands shaking, and if he were to look close enough, he'd easily see that his uncle was doing the same: Shaking like an anxious fool and scavenging through his pockets for a drag and a lighter. The two men lit up, and Midnite decided he was craving a cigar of his own.

"Hey," Nigel said, glancing Aaron, "you got an extra cigarette you can spare?"

"Sure kid." Aaron said, sticking one into his mouth and lighting it generously - Nigel observed Aaron's shaking, unsteady hands.

"Thanks."

"Sure thing." Aaron's glance often wandered towards the sight of Adam, who still had his back to everyone.

"Alright." Constantine said. "I think that's everything." He observed his friends - each of them smoking except Sean - and John began to sway his head from side to side, regarding them thoughtfully. "Ya' know, I'm starting to feel a little out of place with all of these delightful cigarettes around."

He received a few smirks, a rather large, mocking grin from Midnite and a reluctant frown from Sean.

"Just look at it this way, John," Sean said, "at least _we_ won't be the ones getting lung cancer."

"You kidding?" Constantine chuckled. "Haven't you ever heard of secondhand smoke?"

"I reckon you're askin' us to put our drags out, right?" Aaron mused.

"Of course not." John said. "Really, be my guests. It might be the last pleasure you bastards get."

"Well put." Adam remarked.

"I must ask," Midnite said, "why the artillery? Are you planning to wipe Balthazar off the Plane same as last time?"

"No." John said. "But I plan to get through his goons, and without these, that's unlikely to happen in a long shot."

"Then what about him, John? Are you still contemplating on throwing yourself in the gutter?" Midnite went on.

"Got any better ideas? Well, anyone?" Constantine's dark eyes wavered all over the faces around him.

"A link." Adam uttered. Everyone glanced him curiously.

"What?" John asked, arching a brow.

"A link." The old man turned around to meet the weary faces behind him.

"What do you mean _a link_?" Midnite asked.

"Think about it." Adam said. "There is a spell that exists, one made for such situations. If we form a link together, connect our souls by the force of an invisible chain, you'll be bonded. Lucifer only wants claim upon you and Angela. He doesn't have the right to bring us all down together, now does he? Not at once."

"I don't think you get it." Constantine mouthed. "Aaron, you mind explaining?"

"Balthazar won't be bringing anyone's soul down until the Solar Eclipse. When he does, a ritual will be performed. It won't matter then. He'll be able to contract any soul he wants into Hell." Aaron said.

"But how do you know for certain?" Adam demanded. "If we give it a try, it may just work!"

"Not a chance." Aaron said. "You don't know Balthazar, old man. He's got one hell of a card up his sleeve."

"You're all bloody stupid then. I can't believe you're going to rush in there without any kind of shield, attempt to save a woman whose soul is probably already damned as we speak, and then-"

"Just stop right there." John growled. "There's still a chance I can save her."

"But how do you know, John? Eh?"

"Because I have to." Constantine said.

"John," Adam sighed, "you're running in on a wing and a prayer, lad. Now come on, let's give it a shot."

"It's a waste!" Aaron commented sourly.

"A waste…" Adam sneered. "Midnite, do you think I'm bloody stupid?"

Midnite shook his head, puffing his cigar and pressing his hands upon his hips.

"It's worth a try for my part. Why not? Why not attempt it. If there's no hope, we might as well give it a shot…listen to the old man. Besides, what do you have to lose other than your own lives?"

"That's one way to lighten things up." Sean said with sarcasm. "You people are some kind of inspirational speakers…seriously."

"Well," John said, "what do we have to do then?"

"Does Beeman have any books handy? Something I could scroll through?" Adam asked.

"Help yourself." John said, stepping aside and watching the old man begin his plundering.

"If he doesn't, I know where we can get one." Sean offered. "She's got plenty of em' too."

Constantine cringed slightly at Sean's suggestion, knowing more than very well who he was referring to. He hoped enormously, without the intention of being cold, that Adam would find what he needed right here in this room. Twas' a shame he didn't.

Aaron was still reluctant. Being a practitioner of the Dark Arts, he knew the spell and what it was capable of doing. It just didn't sound too promising to him at all.

"Say Aaron," John began, "don't you know how to perform the spell? Whatever spell it is exactly."

"I uh…" Aaron sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm afraid I don't know right off. But what I do know is that it'll weaken you for sure. It's a damn good shield if it'll work, but it'll drain your lifeforce something awful. To be honest, I don't think it's worth the risk."

"Well I for one do." Adam said. Aaron eyed him with coldness, as if the old man was purposely being indifferent. "Sean, can you take us to this friend of yours?"

"She's more than a friend." Sean said. "She's my sister…Rhona."

"Alright. Go ahead, all of you, and meet me on Harplo Boulevard." Midnite said. "I'll grab a few things from my office - a few weapons of my own."

**To Be Continued.**


	21. Treacherous Acts

**Treacherous Acts **

Balthazar was anxious, constantly readjusting the tightness around his neck - that silk material that was a pinstriped tie. He was walking the floors of the conference room in swift, stomping strides, and each time his gaze reached Elijah, the man swallowed hard, knowing well that Balthazar's rage was aimed directly at him.

"A _temporal_ mistake!" He broke the barrier of silence with his sharp snap. "A _temporal _mistake!"

"Come on," Elijah pleaded, "how was I supposed to know the fucking bastard was going to turn on us? He sold his own soul to the Devil for goodness sake!"

"Lucifer was right. I should've never trusted him to begin with. I should've known better; once an ally of Constantine's always an ally. Selling his damned soul was a deploy, not an incantation to give Lucifer his loyalty…and now I'm going to be taking the flack for it. You should've watched him closer."

"He sent that Constantine flying out the window! After that he took off after him. He was running so fast I couldn't keep up with the guy if I wanted, but I was sure he'd bring him right here…or at least mess him up a little more until I could get out there - just like you wanted, Bal."

Balthazar stopped dead in his tracks, then rounded the table and rested his palms on the surface near to where Elijah sat. The wary human watched his face with frightened, anxious eyes.

"It doesn't matter now. What's done is done." Balthazar said - his sudden coolness made Elijah all the more uneasy. "You did call upon the ones who are to perform the ritual at least, right?"

Elijah's head bobbed up and down slowly, sweat forming upon his temples. His eyes were wide with fear and his face ghastly pale. Balthazar took notice of his appearance, his expression, and began to amuse himself with the situation.

"Hmmm…" the Half-Breed licked his lips, his eyes peering maliciously into the man's soul. "Why so nervous?"

"What do you mean?" Elijah swallowed.

"You sit there and watch me as if I am going to kill you. Is there anything you'd like to share perhaps? Something I don't know?"

"Of course not." Elijah attempted a weak half-grin. "You know I'd tell you if there was something you needed to know."

"Would you now? You're friend certainly didn't."

"Walter was no friend of mine." Elijah said, swallowing anxiously again - a nervous tick he could not contain.

"Oh, but he was." Balthazar said. "You humans all stick together like a little flock of sheep…cowardly, weak little sheep. And then the shrewd wolf comes along. He sees right through you," Balthazar was leaning forward so that his hissing words were stinging Elijah's ears, "hearing your thoughts, reading your emotions. And then -- AND THEN HE STRIKES!"

A wince, a wail, a struggle for air. Elijah was lifted violently from his seat and Balthazar's hand was clutching, coiling around his throat with brute force. Air was slowly decreasing, his esophagus closing off, his face turning blue, his pleads fruitless. There was nothing he could say now, nothing he could do to convince Balthazar to release him, to spare him.

"I didn't…Bal, please…I…I don't know…plea," It was muffled and strained, and then his frightened eyes rolled into the back of his head, his lids closing over them, his tongue wanting to roll out of his mouth. His hands lost their grip on Balthazar's wrist and all turned into cold darkness for the Occultist.

"Curtains." Balthazar grinned. "Nice knowing you."

He tossed the body to the floor as if it were nothing more than old garbage. He brushed himself off, as if the human essence had dirtied his nice suit.

A knock came to the door and the beautiful blond with the clipboard peered inside. She smiled demurely at the scene and Balthazar smirked arrogantly.

"Another one I see." she said.

"I want it disposed." Balthazar said. "It's dirtying my floors."

"Yes sir."

"Wait." Balthazar halted her, raising his palm and musing at the body. "I have a better idea."

"What would that be, sir?"

"Have the body delivered to Constantine's apartment. Let the Scavengers take care of it; no one will see them…I want Walter _and_ his friends to know what's in store for _them_."

The blond dispersed out of sight and Balthazar trailed out of the conference room, across the hall and into an elevator. His finger bolted - one strike - on the metal buttons. The elevator came to a slow and stopped at the top floor where he fled gracefully into his penthouse.

It was an elegant, tastefully designed bachelor's retreat. Snazzy furnishings, ornate lighting, extravagant paintings of abstract landscapes, persian rugs giving color to the marble floors. It was an open layout with a grand entertainment room - perfect for those extravagant parties - a real million dollar setup with a flat screen television, pool table, a bar and whatever else you could imagine. What a place…

The bedroom was where he kept the prisoner; Angela was hogtied to the bed, perfectly clothed and sleeping. She looked almost dead, but she was very much alive - for the time being.

He came and sat on the edge of the mattress, eyeing her as if she were a prize he had won, thinking of how nice she looked for a filthy human. He let his finger brush the unruly strands of her auburn hair away from her face, letting several temptations fill his crude mind. Then an unlikely 'savior for the moment' came knocking on the door.

Balthazar sighed, annoyed by the interruption. Then the door opened and another striking beauty - albeit a wicked one - came slipping in.

"Ellie." he mouthed. "What do you want?"

"You didn't answer, so I helped myself." she replied viciously. Seeing Balthazar sitting on the bedside and pulling his fingers away from Angela's hair filled Ellie with envy. "Enjoying your little prodigy?" she asked with sarcasm.

"You might say I am." he smirked, as if wanting to promote her resentfulness. "Now that I've got her here in my bed, I can clearly see what Johnny Boy finds so fascinating about her." He turned away from Ellie, his sneaky eyes rolling back down towards the sight of Angela. "I suppose it's no wonder," his sly eyes peered over at Ellie once more, "why he chose her over you."

Ellie felt her face draining, her teeth gritting, tears pricking the back of her flaming eyes. The bastard didn't care anymore about her than John did…damn them both! But of course, this was punishment for being an offspring of Hell, a daughter of Lilith. Man wanted and desired her, but without love. They wanted to use her, take her in for a one night stand, then throw her back out and run home to women like Angela - women they'd spend the rest of their days with. And no matter how much she used them herself, it was really she who was taking the sting of the blade.

"What is it you wanted?" Balthazar asked.

"Nothing." Ellie mouthed, her words broken by her despair.

"You wanted something, Ellie. What was it?"

"Maybe I did. Doesn't matter now."

He heard the door close, heard her feet galloping out of the penthouse. She left the place with a drive to escape, running into an elevator and pressing no button in particular at random. She squatted down, falling roughly to her rump, hugging her knees and bearing her face into the lap of her salmon-pink skirt, letting hot, burning tears roll down at their own pace. Her grief had been roused by both jealousy and betrayal.

Whilst she cried she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself - that was her nature after all. The only thing that bothered her about it was that it seemed to be all she ever ended up doing, ended up accomplishing. She suspected the worst to follow: Running away again, maybe wandering the streets like an old unwanted dog that had been from pillar to post until she'd get tired of that endless parade of wandering; she'd start looking for someplace to lay up at then - that's the way it always was with her. Well, she was getting quite sick and tired of that.

Perhaps she'd just go to the office. Perhaps later Balthazar would come in and pet her up - after of course his current fascination wore off.

That's what she ended up doing after all. She was laying in the dark, huddled on the leather parlor sofa. Balthazar had insisted that she stay here; that way John wouldn't know where to find her.

When the gentle knocks came bouncing on the wooden door, Ellie fantasized for a moment. For a brief while it was John, knocking on the door of her townhouse, maybe with a new bottle of Vodka in his grasp, coming here just to see her. She could see his sharp, dark eyes, his lean, tall frame, the masculine angles of his face - making her desire him all over again. And then there was that clever, irresistible smirk - the one that used to drive Ellie crazy. But that was all he was to her, the exact same thing she had been to him: Something to run to when the rest of the world slammed its doors on their faces.

The fantasy faded when she answered the door and John's face became that of Balthazar's who was standing there half-leant against the doorframe, staring her up and down with those demonic orbs, as if looking through her clothes. He didn't smile, but he looked arrogant and cocky just the same. In a way, it disgusted her.

"What do you want?" Ellie sneered.

"Hmmm…" Balthazar continued to observe her well curved frame, her round face and her delicate features. "Can I have you?" He was teasing her.

"Go fuck yourself." Ellie was going to slam the door right on his face - hopefully she'd hit it - but he caught it with his hand, pushing it open and stepping inside, closing the door behind them and using his scorching presence, his supernatural feelers, to give light to the chandelier without having to lift a finger.

"Come on, Ellie." he grinned sharply, those unnatural white teeth revealing themselves.

"Lay off, asshole."

Ellie had her back to him, which was probably a mistake because he moved up behind her, fitting his hand over her stomach and pulling her into him so that he could tickle her neck with his hot breath. It made the tiny hairs on her skin stand straight up.

"Let go!" she barked.

"Oh, that's my feisty little slut!" he jeered. "Come on, let's go into the conference room…we'll have a little _meeting_." he whispered.

"I thought you already had that meeting last night with your blond secretary."

"Since when do _you_ care how many women your standing in line with?" he chuckled.

"Since now!" She pulled away, spinning around and frowning at him. "Just because I'm a succubus doesn't mean I don't get tired of being somebody's new little fuck."

"And what is a succubus, Ellie? Huh? What is a succubus to you?" He circled her as he spoke. "In ancient lore it is a Demoness who comes and has sexual intercourse with sleeping men. You're a poison, a weakness that represents the tempting desires of every male. You're a prostitute forged in the pits of flame, put here along with countless others to stalk whatever man proves himself an obstacle in Lucifer's way… and to prove that true love and loyalty does not exist in this world."

Ellie felt cold tears rolling down her cheeks. She shut her eyes, trying to close out all of the negative, hurtful things that Balthazar was reminding her of. And it disgusted him.

"What are _you_ grieving for?!" he shouted, lurching out and jerking her arm. "Your tears are meaningless! You're Hell's child, you have no use for such emotions…even if they are expressed for none other than yourself. Ever since I entrusted you to assist me in my quest here, you have done nothing but prove to me over and over how very useless you are."

"I brought her, didn't I!?"

"It was my Scavenger who brought her here, not you…"

"YES IT WAS! HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?!"

"SILENCE!" He shook her violently. "Hold your tongue at me, you whore! If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing! NOTHING! If I hadn't come along and put you to use, you would be a meaningless existence!… But no matter how hard I try, you're still useless! All you are is a tramp in my shadow, fantasizing about your sick nights with Constantine…whilst thinking of some way you can get in bed with _me_." He grinned with arrogance, licking his lips, and Ellie pulled away once more.

"You." she uttered. "_You_?"

"Yes. Me."

Ellie shook her head, her lips tilted upside down with existentialist dread.

"No. No, Balthazar…not now. Not ever." she swallowed. "You see, you and I both were born in Hell. The only two differences is that one of us is proud while the other wishes secretly that it wasn't so. And one of us has more blood on his hands than anyone could imagine…that would be you."

Balthazar clutched Ellie's throat, thrusting her against the door and making each breath she tried for a horrible struggle.

"I suppose I'll learn to let so many get in my way and slow me down, now won't I? Let's take a stroll to the rooftop."

†††

The wind whipped through her hair, cut through the fabric of her skirt - but nothing was as painful, as ruthful as he. He had her dangling out over the edge, his hand still coiled around her skinny neck, her hands gripping his wrist desperately. He had that look about him, that look that made her sick to her stomach. It was like looking into the eyes of death itself, and Ellie was slowly realizing that she feared it far worse than she had ever imagined.

If this was three years back, or even a month or so ago, she'd embrace it with a coy laugh, a welcoming jeer. But things were different now…_she_ was different. She didn't want to become another stash in Lucifer's slush-pile where she'd join countless souls in that horrific game of being torn and shredded by the Devil's minions for all eternity, and possibly take a few beatings from a few souls that were down there because of her temptations over them.

Despite her fear Ellie never begged for him to spare her. She resented Balthazar too badly to do that. The quicker it ended, the better. But there was never going to be a quick end to this, not really.

"I'm going to make the best of this moment, Ellie. I'm going to enjoy this time we have together as much as _time _will allow…The only problem is I can't decide whether or not I should strangle you to death _and then _let you fall, or throw you to your demise."

"By the -- by the time you -- get through running your mouth -- I'll -- I'll be dead." she gasped.

"That, my dear, is the most sensible thing you've said yet."

Balthazar loosened his grip and watched pleasurably as she fell from that great tower, her scream falling silent the closer she got to the bottom. Once she hit the street below, she was gone, splattered, ended.

Cars below began to screech whilst they slammed on breaks and a delivery truck sent about three vehicles sliding forward. Horns blew frantically, and the countless people that crowded the sidewalks began to scream. In a matter of minutes, the ambulance was heard. Was this it? Was Ellie gone for good?

Balthazar grinned and dispersed back inside…

**To Be Continued.**

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**A/N:** Okay, my apologies for these slow updates. The end of this story has proved more challenging than I had originally intended because somehow these new ideas and scenarios keep bursting in my mind and I have to work them out perfectly so that it flows nicely and makes sense…plus, I hate to rush the story. On top of that, life tends to get in the way so my hands have been absent from my keyboard. Thanks for being patient! I promise not to stop with this or my other fics. This one is near complete anyhow.


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